The Snare of Darkness
by DragonMaster000
Summary: The Dragon Realms have survived Nexus's attacks, but now Ragnor's wrath has been awakened. Spyro and his friends will now have to join forces with an unlikely ally in order to survive, and in the process Spyro may be forced to come to terms with a difficult truth: the truth of the purple dragon.
1. Chapter 1: Illusions of Calm

**Hello there everybody! I'm back!**

**Well, it's finally here. I've been looking forward to starting this story for quite some time now, and it feels good to be back in the world of fanfic writing again. :)  
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**So, without any further delay, please enjoy the first chapter of The Snare of Darkness!  
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**Just a quick note: To anybody who doesn't know, this story is a sequel to my debut Spyro fanfic The Broken Line. If you haven't read it, please stop reading this Author's Note and go do it now. Otherwise, this story WILL NOT make sense.  
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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of the Legend of Spyro franchise, nor any of the characters depicted therein. I do own all Original Characters that appear in this story.  
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_Chapter 1: Illusions of Calm_

In these forsaken lands, there was one simple truth that was all too apparent: time was torture.

Its passing was a harsh guarantee; steady, unvarying, and infuriatingly unsympathetic. It could be seemingly warped or delayed by those with the right power, but in the end it flowed unrelentingly. Nothing could stand in its path. Those who had tried were no more.

In the Dark Realms, this bitter truth was all the more evident. Time moved at an agonizing crawl, and every day it was the same trials, the same hardships, and the same torment. There was nothing to provide an escape or relief, nothing to do but sit as time was slowly, steadily stolen away.

A distant rumble echoed across the barren wastes of stone and sand, and in response a lone figure turned her gaze listlessly toward a faraway point on the horizon, where she could faintly see a flare of red and orange light as some outlying volcano erupted, just one in an endless cycle. Barely a second later the dragoness gave a disinterested huff and looked away again, her hard, blood red eyes flickering over the smoky horizon, the distant crimson glow casting an odd tint on her indigo purple scales. Her lips were drawn into a scowl, and her tail swished irritably behind her.

_I can't wait to leave this hell behind me,_ she thought.

Nevertheless, despite the agitation and restlessness that plagued her, she knew inside that waiting was all she could do.

By this point she should have been used to letting time slip by her. She had spent countless years unable to do anything else, after all, sealed inside a crystal prison, but still it drove her practically to insanity. She was free now, and all she wanted was to be able to _do_ something. She didn't care what it was, so long as it gave her an outlet for her pent-up energy and boredom, but in this place there was nothing. Even training gave her no relief, for it was nothing more than a pathetic substitute for the real thrill and excitement she craved.

She huffed again and sharply rose to her paws, unable to bear sitting still any longer. Ever since being released from her captivity she had been unable to remain in one place for any length of time, as if she feared that if she didn't move about she would find herself frozen once more, trapped. She began pacing agitatedly along the sharp ridgeline that overlooked the plains and desert below with no clear destination in mind, just moving for the sake of it as her mind worked over her brooding thoughts.

_It has been long enough,_ she growled within her mind. _What use is there in delaying any longer? We should act now!_

Lost in her agitated contemplations, she didn't even realize where her wandering had taken her until she looked up and saw the low cave opening before her. She paused uncertainly, unable to decide whether to enter or leave again. She knew what she would find within, but then again there wasn't really anywhere else to go...

The dragoness gave a resigned sigh and entered the dim passage, moving slowly so as to allow her eyes to adjust to the gloom. The dim, familiar violet glow of the dark crystal veins in the walls caressed her scales, accentuating their shade, and something about it helped to ease a small amount of her troubles, though not by much. She paused for a brief moment in front of one such crystal formation, staring into it before lifting a paw and brushing it against the cold surface. The twisting patterns of light seemed to pulse at the contact, and the dragoness felt a small tingle run up her foreleg as her own body reacted to the energies trapped within.

_Strange, the ways things are connected, _she mused.

She shook her head to bring herself back to the present. Turning, she resumed her slow trek down into the cave. It was only a few moments more before the rough stone walls fell away to reveal a low, circular chamber, the same dark crystals casting their sickly light throughout it, leaving only the twelve hollows recessed into the walls concealed in darkness. These hollows were bare and empty, save for the one to the right of the entry passage which was where the dragoness had gathered together a makeshift nest of dry, brittle weeds and lichen to sleep on. The cramped space was hardly large enough for an adult dragon, but in this place options were scarce.

She hardly registered these sights at that moment, however. Her eyes were drawn solely to the hulking purple figure sitting hunched over the stone ring in the centre of the room.

As the dragoness stepped into their cave dwelling, Ragnor gave a low, rumbling sigh and slowly straightened. His back was turned, so she couldn't see his face, but the rolling of his powerful, bladed shoulders as he leaned back from the ring denoted the tension he held within him. As he straightened the shifting lights that had filled the ring like the surface of a rippling pool warped and dissipated, leaving only hard stone in their wake. The dragoness realized that her master had been viewing something through the ring, but whatever it was, he hadn't liked it. She felt herself growing wary as she cautiously approached.

She stopped when she was a few paces away from the larger dragon, now at an angle that allowed her to see his face. It was as she had suspected. His vicious jaws were set in a grimace, a dangerous light in his feral eyes.

"Problem?" she asked after a moment spent considering her words carefully, then abandoning all pretences and electing to simply be blunt.

Ragnor sighed again; a deep rumble that she could practically feel through the air. The dragoness's body was tense as she sat awaiting his response, every sense alert for a sign of danger. If his anger were to be sparked, she wanted to be ready to flee under the cover of Dragon Time at an instant's notice.

"Nexus continues to elude me," her master replied finally, his gaze not shifting from the empty stone ring.

His tone had been calm when he'd spoken, despite the tension in his huge frame. He made it sound like nothing but an inconvenience, though the dragoness knew that it must be much more than that to him. She knew the thirst her master bore for the traitor's blood, and this setback couldn't be sitting well with him one bit.

"That shouldn't be possible," she remarked after another careful pause.

"No," Ragnor agreed. "And yet I am unable to even glimpse him. Some deep, ancient power blocks my gaze, but I know not what."

The dragoness frowned, growing on edge. "A threat?"

"No," Ragnor said again. "This power holds no edge of danger in it. It is a covering, and nothing more."

The dragoness grunted, her own eyes hardening and drifting toward the ring.

"Too bad."

She sensed her master's gaze shifting onto her, and she quickly lifted her eyes to meet it. The larger dragon's expression was as difficult to read as always, and she couldn't guess what he might be thinking. She could only wait for him to speak, which he did only a second later.

"Your eagerness for battle is refreshing. Don't worry; you will get your chance to test your might soon enough. For the time being, though, you must be patient, my servant."

The dragoness wanted to make some sort of retort, to say that she had done nothing but be patient for longer than should have been necessary. She was sick of being patient. She wanted the chance she had been craving for well over a millennium, to flex her talons again and rain despair and terror down upon the lands as she once had. The Dark Realms were not where she belonged, and sitting idly was not part of her purpose.

She kept her mouth shut, however, knowing that such remarks would gain her nothing. She was no fan of restraint, but when it was necessary, it was necessary. She only hoped it wouldn't be necessary for much longer.

A long moment passed in silence, but at length a new question entered the dragoness's mind, and she looked up at her master again.

"Are you waiting for him to show himself before acting?"

Ragnor immediately shook his head. "It is of no importance if he emerges from hiding or not. No, all that matters is timing. The stage must be set right before proceeding."

The dragoness frowned again. "But the longer we wait, the more our enemies recover their strength. Would it not have been better to strike while they were still weak?"

"It would have, but your condition didn't allow for that. But again, it does not matter. As they recover, they drop their guard. The quiet will make them weak again. Peace is like a disease, eroding the strength of those foolish enough to believe it can last."

The dragoness gazed up at her master with a look of puzzlement, finding his logic strange but knowing better than to question it. Instead she merely watched in silence as Ragnor lifted a massive forepaw and set it on the rim of the stone ring. The hard surface within rippled like water before being replaced by a hazy white light. Then, slowly, an image began to resolve itself in the ring's centre. Gradually a recognizable figure was revealed: a young dragon, sitting alone in the sunlight, with scales of a colour much like their own.

"Even the strongest succumb to its crippling effects," Ragnor growled ominously. "Let them sicken. They grow more vulnerable by the day, and they don't even realize it."

The dragoness said nothing in reply. Instead, she simply gazed down at the image in the ring, a faint grin slowly growing at the corners of her lips as her master's words instilled a dangerous excitement within her. The fools would never know what hit them until it was too late.

She could hardly wait to get started.

"Very soon, they will be helpless against us. Only then, when our success is guaranteed, will we strike, and when we do the world will fall to us."

Ragnor lifted one of his enormous paws and held it pad up in front of him. A sphere of earth formed above it, and the purple dragon slowly wrapped his claws around it, holding the solid mass of stone firmly in his grip. Then, in a single quick movement, he clenched his paw around the earth sphere and shattered it, reducing it to dust.

"You will have your retribution," he growled in a low tone, his eyes steely as he gazed upon the image of the young purple 'hero' in the stone ring. "And I will finally have my revenge..."

***.*.***

The dull roar of the waves crashing against the shore was at the same time impressive and soothing. Its tone and volume spoke of power, of the sea's relentless assault that even the mighty cliffs would eventually crumble against, but at the same time its steady rhythm was deeply calming. In a world where everything could change in a heartbeat and lives could be upended without warning, it was something that was constant and reliable, that would always be the same no matter what transpired elsewhere.

It was this kind of constancy and comfort that always drew Spyro back to this place.

The young purple dragon was motionless as he gazed out over the glittering sea from his perch on the coastal cliffs. The sheltered natural platform of stone that sat halfway up the sheer rock face had become a haven to him in recent months, offering a place of isolation and refuge that he could return to whenever the chaos of his life in the dragon city of Warfang became too much for him. It was something that he could have all to himself, and it seemed to be one of the few places left where he could be surrounded by nothing but quiet and tranquility.

Another wave crashed against the cliff face far below him, and Spyro inhaled deeply as the coastal breeze carried the fine spray up to him, the full, salty aroma filling his nostrils and the cool mist tickling his scales. A faint smile touched his lips, and when he opened his eyes again he felt contentment blooming within him as he soaked up the peaceful vista.

A few minutes passed in which he was utterly still, but then his gaze drifted down to the grassy soil by his side. A small patch of soft brown stone had been cleared in the middle of the grass, and in the centre of this a simple sculpture stood. With slow, calculated movements Spyro reached toward it with a talon and slowly traced a curving line across it, the tip of his claw glowing with a faint green energy. The stone in the sculpture responded to the motion, shifting and twisting as if molded by invisible paws. He made only small alterations at a time, gradually whittling away at the stone's form, each change bringing it closer to the vision he carried in his mind.

He spent a moment studying his work in progress. The sculpture was of two dragons, with their wings spread as though flying, looking as if they might be chasing each other or playing in the sky. It was quite simple in design, with no incredibly fine details or elaborate decorations. Still, though it may not be a masterpiece, Spyro was quite proud of how it was turning out. This was something that he had created himself, entirely as he wanted without any guidance or anyone watching over his shoulder. It was his, and his alone.

Giving a satisfied nod after looking over the sculpture again, the purple dragon turned his gaze back to the sea. He inhaled deeply, savouring the freshness of the air and letting the pure, clean scent play up his nostrils. A contented smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he sighed.

He decided that this must be what it felt like to live the life he had dreamed of having since he had learned what he was nearly four years ago. No fear, no danger, just the trivial worries of daily life to deal with. True, it wasn't entirely what he had hoped for; as a purple dragon there was always something else expected of him, and he was beginning to find fame to be a tiresome burden. Still, the moments such as this where all was quiet and calm were more than enough to make him feel like everything he had worked for was worth it.

A small, nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that he was a fool to think that things would stay this way. From the day he had learned of his nature and destiny he had known only trials and conflict, and it seemed that no matter how hard he fought against it those troubles would always find him again. Somewhere in the world there was always something poised to shatter the delicate illusion that was peace and happiness.

And there was still the question of Ragnor.

A troubled frown creased the young dragon's features as that name echoed in his mind like a shade from the past. The events of that day in the Well of Souls were ones that he wished he could forget but that refused to be dislodged from his mind. No matter how hard he tried to escape them, they would always return in both waking thought and in dreams.

Five months had passed since the battle, and yet he could remember every detail of it like it was only yesterday. The noise; the pain; the fear and desperation; the helplessness in the face of a seemingly unbeatable adversary; the way he had fought side by side with a dragon that up until that point had been his sworn enemy.

There hadn't been a single sign of Ragnor since that day, nor had Spyro been stricken by any more attacks of pain in his head which were apparently caused by Ragnor as well. Everything appeared safe and calm. Even so, that day plagued him with unease despite the way the world around him was thriving in this time of peace and safety. It left him with a pit of worry deep inside of him, as well as oddly unsettled.

_The things they said about me..._ he thought distractedly. _What could they mean?_

He had struggled with this question often during the recent months, but no answers had presented themselves. The efforts of his friends had likewise proved futile to understand this puzzle, and eventually they seemed to have decided to just let the matter drop. He would also rather just push such questions aside and focus instead on what he knew about himself—that he had been raised to be good by his family, that he loved his friends and that he would give anything to protect them—but he couldn't help but notice the disturbing pattern that had begun to emerge.

He had encountered three other purple dragons over a matter of only a few months, and all three of them had insinuated that his background was of a more sinister bent than he had been led to believe by those he trusted.

An unnerving feeling of doubt and confusion churned his gut, but Spyro immediately shook his head to drive it away, forcing those troubling thoughts from his mind. He didn't need to listen to what Malefor, Nexus or Ragnor said about him. They didn't know him. They didn't understand the things he held dear to him, and what drove him through the struggles and trials that stood in his path. He knew what he was.

Didn't he?

He gave another sigh, but this one was tinged with unease.

It was then that his sculpture caught his eye once again. He glanced down toward it, but when he did he paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side and frowning thoughtfully. After a brief examination, he decided that the left foreleg of one of the dragons still didn't look quite right, and so he reached down with a glowing talon to correct it with his earth power.

Just before he could begin his work, however, a faint sound caught his attention. He went still, straining his ears to make it out over the dull roar of the waves and the calls of seaside birds. For several seconds he was unable to identify it, but as its source drew closer he finally registered what he was hearing.

Wing beats.

His light purple eyes turned upward to the clear sky overhead, a puzzled expression on his face. Who could be out here? His retreat on the cliffs was a fair distance from the city—part of its allure for the purple dragon—so he couldn't imagine why anyone would come out this way. Unless, perhaps, they were looking for him?

He felt a confused mix of concern and irritation at that thought. On the one hand, if someone was looking for him it might mean that there was some kind of trouble in the city. What if something had happened? What if some danger had been discovered that might threaten the peace he had fought so hard for and suffered so much to secure? He needed to know.

But on the other hand, he didn't want anyone to find this place. It was selfish of him, but he wanted to keep this haven a secret for as long as he possibly could. As soon as it was discovered he would likely never be able to find peace there again, and this was something that he desperately wished to avoid. There were so few places left where he could be left undisturbed, and losing this one would be a difficult blow.

It was too late now, however. The sound of the approaching wing beats told him that the intruder was closing in on his position. He wouldn't be able to leave without being spotted, and so his discovery was inevitable. Giving a resigned sigh, he simply waited to see who it was that was coming.

It was barely another minute before the dragon who was the source of the noise appeared over the lip of the cliff face above him, approaching from the east. When they did, however, Spyro straightened in surprise, for his unexpected guest wasn't an entirely unwelcome one.

"So this is where you've been disappearing to, is it?" Cynder asked as she touched down on the edge of the narrow platform. She regarded Spyro with a slight smirk on her face, and he could only stare back.

The dragoness folded her magenta wings against her flanks and examined her surroundings, her emerald eyes systematically scanning over every detail. Her midnight black scales glistened in the early afternoon light, and Spyro winced as the sun briefly reflected off of the viciously sharp blades that grew from Cynder's wings and tail. As she took in the view and the secluded atmosphere, a look of intrigue flashed across her expression.

"It's a nice spot," she commented a moment later before padding over closer to the purple dragon and sitting down facing him. A humorous sparkle shone in her eyes, but the look also bore a hint of accusation. "I'm surprised you never mentioned it."

Spyro found himself unable to come up with a reply for several seconds, still trying to decide whether he was pleased or annoyed that his companion had happened upon his location. At length, though, he gave a defeated sigh and his gaze dropped briefly toward the ground.

"I guess it would be stupid to think I could keep it a secret forever," he said. "But I just needed a spot where I could get away sometimes. You're not mad that I didn't tell you, are you?"

Cynder considered him for a short while, her eyes locking with his and seeming to pierce right into him effortlessly with their gaze. Not long after that, though, her posture relaxed slightly and her expression became a touch softer.

"No, I guess not," she told him. "I understand the need to be alone. I can't say I blame you for wanting to escape every now and then."

Spyro merely nodded, relieved that the black dragoness wasn't upset with him for keeping this secret from her.

"I do wish you'd told me about it, though," she added, turning her head to look out over the glittering sea. "It really is a nice little spot."

Spyro thought he caught something hidden in her voice at those words, and he studied her for a moment curiously. He couldn't keep the small smile from forming on his lips a second later.

"Well, there's nothing to stop you from coming along next time now that you know about it."

Cynder met his gaze again and smirked when she saw his expression.

"Maybe."

Spyro chuckled, his gaze dropping to the grass at his paws again as he considered this development. Cynder watched him for a moment, but then her eyes seemed to pick out the small stone sculpture by Spyro's side and she leaned her head over to gaze at it curiously.

"And what's this?" she asked.

Spyro looked up at the question, and when he saw her looking at his sculpture he faltered in surprise.

"Oh," he said uncertainly, feeling an odd sort of embarrassment coming over him at having his little hobby discovered. "It's...just something I work on when I come out here."

"I didn't know you were interested in sculpting."

Spyro didn't quite know what to say in response to that. He merely waited as Cynder examined his work, feeling strangely anxious. What if she didn't think it was very good? He knew that he was no master in this art, but still, what if she dismissed his efforts as those of an amateur, or laughed at him?

"It isn't finished yet..." he said uncertainly as the silence drew on.

"I didn't think so," Cynder nodded, not taking her eyes off the sculpture. "But it looks good so far."

Spyro blinked, surprised. "Really?"

Cynder glanced up at him and noticed his expression. An amused smirk spread across her muzzle.

"Yeah, I like it," she said. Then she leaned down again and brought her face close to the miniature stone dragoness on the left, which was the more complete of the two. "So what's their story?"

Spyro didn't answer for a short moment, thinking and still a little surprised that Cynder had liked his sculpture, but also pleased. At length he simply shrugged, picking absently at the male dragon on the right with a talon.

"I don't know, just two dragons flying together, I guess. Flying, without any other worries weighing down on them, just living peaceful lives together with no fear or danger."

Cynder seemed to pick up on the faint trace of longing in her companion's tone, and she looked up at him again with a studying gaze, though she still bore a small smile on her lips.

"Anyone in mind in particular?"

Spyro shook his head, not catching the meaning of her words. "No, just two regular dragons. Could be anyone, I guess."

Cynder gave a quiet sigh and rolled her eyes in mild exasperation, but Spyro didn't notice this, his expression distant as he stared down at the sculpture, lost in thought. For a time they both just sat there, Cynder watching the purple dragon with an amused glint in her eyes. It was some time before she broke the silence between them.

"Well, this is all very nice and all," she said, glancing quickly around at the seaside view before fixing her gaze on Spyro once again. "But are you maybe forgetting about something?"

This time Spyro did notice the hint in her voice, and he looked up at her in confusion. She was gazing at him with an expectant look in her eyes, and clearly there was something that he was supposed to know about that she was referring to, but his mind was drawing a blank. His gaze drifted off distantly, a puzzled frown creasing his features as he tried to figure out what the dragoness was talking about.

It was when he looked up at the sky and noticed the position of the sun that it finally clicked. All at once a jolt of shock rushed through him, and he turned back to Cynder with wide eyes. A smirk appeared at the corner of her mouth.

"Oh, _crap_!" he exclaimed. "It's not that time already, is it?"

"Uh, yeah, master oblivious!" Cynder scolded him. "You were supposed to be ready and at the Temple courtyard over half an hour ago! Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?"

"Sorry, I lost track of time! How long do we still have?"

"Just over ten minutes. Come on, let's go!"

Spyro didn't waste any time with questions. Seized by a rush of urgency, he leapt into the air and beat his wings as fast as he could to keep up with Cynder as she raced through the sky toward Warfang's proud, towering walls. The city's polished walls and buildings gleamed majestically in the sunlight, and even from this distance Spyro could make out the shapes of dragons weaving amongst the rooftops. There were dozens of them in the air alone, all of them heading for the Guardians' Temple in the centre of the city.

"Come on!" Cynder urged him from ahead. "We can still make it if we hurry!"

Spyro nodded and put on a renewed burst of speed, straining his wings for every last ounce of speed he could get. It was only a couple of minutes later that the pair of young dragons sped over the city's wall and began dodging between buildings at a frantic pace, heading for their residence building.

The streets below them were a hive of activity, with creatures of all sorts mingling amongst brightly decorated squares and courtyards. There were dragons, moles and cheetahs, as well as many other races that Spyro had only encountered fleetingly in recent days; foxes, badgers, bears, leopards, and much more. There were also some creatures of a more magical variety, like the phoenixes, and the other day Spyro had even met a pair of griffins, which had come as quite a surprise to him since he had only heard of them once in passing from the Guardians.

The streets themselves were lined with stalls and vendor's carts, while streamers and banners were strung between buildings in a chaotic web that could easily snag any unwary dragons passing by. Flags of all colours and designs were everywhere, and the noise was unbelievable. Put simply, Warfang was _packed_.

Finally, what felt like ages later but was actually only another couple of minutes, the two young dragons dove sharply to the ground and landed just outside the entrance of their residence. They wasted no time dashing through the open doorway, both because they were pressed for time and because they didn't want to get intercepted by any of the many creatures in the streets. They ignored the moles rushing about the foyer and instead climbed the stairs at a gallop, soon emerging on their floor and bursting through the door to Spyro's room.

"Let's get that armour down here," Cynder instructed, pointing up toward Spyro's enclosed sleeping chamber. "I'll help you put it on."

Spyro didn't argue, and only a moment later he and Cynder had the various pieces of his gleaming silver ceremonial armour scattered on the floor of his chambers' common room. Wasting no time, Cynder grabbed the chest plate in her forepaws and she and Spyro set to work manoeuvring it into position.

"I can't believe you," Cynder grunted as she worked frantically to secure the straps for the armour, tightening them across his shoulders and back. Once that was finished she lifted up the back plate and buckled it to the chest plate's straps, letting it sit so that it covered the purple dragon's upper back between his wings as well as the upper portion of his flanks. While she worked, Spyro noticed that there was an undertone of amusement in her voice despite her scolding words, though. "You're lucky I found you. The Guardians would have been furious if you missed the ceremony."

"Tell me about it," Spyro groaned as Cynder began trying to set the tail plate of his armour into position. "They've been all over me about what my participation stands for, and how important it is tha—_whoa_!"

He yelped and jumped when he suddenly felt Cynder reaching around his hind legs to try and grab the strap for the tail plate to buckle it across his underbelly. The black dragoness rolled her eyes and shot him a wry frown.

"Don't get too excited, purple boy," she said dryly. "Now hold still so I can...there, got it. Now it's just the bracers and we're done."

As she moved around to stand in front of him again, Spyro picked up one of the bracers in his left forepaw and held it against his other foreleg. Cynder quickly looped the straps through the buckles and cinched them down, fastening the bracer in place.

"Good?" she asked.

"A bit tighter," Spyro replied, shaking his head, at the same time setting the shining silver helm upon his head with his free forepaw and wiggling it about to try and get it to sit comfortably in place. A second later Cynder finished with the right bracer and set to work on the left, pulling on the straps. Almost immediately, however, Spyro let out a sharp cry of pain and jerked his foreleg back, causing the bracer to slip off in Cynder's paws.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Cynder exclaimed quickly, a look of guilt and concern flashing across her expression. "Was that too tight?"

Spyro didn't answer for a moment, his features pinched as he gazed down at his left foreleg. His eyes settled upon the patch of misshapen, discoloured scales that marked where the limb had been crippled by Cynder's poison months before. He twisted his forepaw to stretch out the tense muscles beneath the scar, wincing slightly as the movement elicited another brief twinge of pain.

"Don't worry about it," he sighed finally. "It was an accident."

"Is it bothering you again?" Cynder asked him, concern in her tone.

"It's fine. Just a little twinge. It's gone now."

Cynder didn't appear convinced, gazing intently into his eyes. "Maybe we should take you to the healers' pavilion after the ceremony."

"The healers?" Spyro repeated in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"The physician said to go see him whenever it bothered you."

"Yeah, but I was just there last week."

Cynder said nothing, simply staring hard into her companion's eyes. Her expression was one of firm seriousness, and it was only a second later that Spyro found himself unable to hold that gaze any longer.

"Okay, okay, fine. But I'm telling you, it's nothing. Now, can we just focus on the ceremony for right now?"

Cynder nodded. "Hold on, this will only take a second..."

She set the bracer in place with more care this time, and a moment later she had it secured in place, the straps not quite as tight as they were on the other side but enough that the bracer wouldn't easily slide off. Spyro flexed his foreleg experimentally and frowned when he felt a dull ache in his scar from the light pressure, but he made no complaint. Instead he straightened his head and shoulders and squared himself to the black-scaled dragoness.

"Well, how do I look?" he asked, striking a formal pose.

Cynder chuckled, a grin forming on her lips. "Very heroic. That armour suits you."

Spyro craned his neck down to get a look at himself, trying to see if she was telling the truth. The armour was the same polished ceremonial set that the Guardians had placed in his room before he had first arrived back at the city. Crafted by the moles, the edges of the shining silver plates were decorated by an intricate array of embossed designs.

All four of the base elements were represented in these designs; fire, ice, earth and electricity, with the patterns divided into sections for each element. The transitions between these sections were so seamless that they were almost unnoticeable; if someone followed the edges of the armour with their gaze, they would often not notice the change until they were already well past it.

Aside from these designs, a series of royal purple accents were tastefully forged into the metal plates, matching Spyro's scales perfectly. All in all, the armour was of breathtaking quality and was worth more than anything Spyro had ever owned before or dreamed of owning. Wearing it made him feel like nobility, but it also made him tremendously anxious of accidentally damaging it and he decided he couldn't wait to take it off and set it safely back on his shelf.

"I just wish it wasn't so heavy," he commented, already feeling the added weight pressing down on his legs. "I'm glad I don't have to fight in this stuff. I doubt it would protect me very well anyway."

"Yeah, well, I doubt you have to worry about running into any grublins out there today. Now come on, we have to hurry. They're probably about to start."

Spyro nodded in agreement, and the pair hastened out of the purple dragon's room and down to the building's foyer, soon emerging out in the crowded streets once more. As soon as they had left the building, however, they were brought to an abrupt halt when they found the way before them completely blocked by a wall of bodies.

"I can't believe how packed this place is!" Cynder exclaimed. "We're never going to get through that!"

"Can we fly over it?"

Both Spyro and Cynder turned their gazes up to the air above them, studying the situation. It didn't look promising; there were strings of flags and banners everywhere, crisscrossing over the Temple's courtyard and amongst the buildings surrounding it in a thick covering which would be a nightmare to manoeuvre around. Aside from that there were still dragons circling about, trying to find places to land amongst the crowd, making navigating in that tangle hazardous.

"Not likely," Cynder grunted finally, a look of frustration in her eyes. "Besides, flying out in the open is just an invitation for you to get mobbed in this crowd."

"Well then what are we going to do?" Spyro asked, growing anxious. "It'll take us forever to circle around in the streets."

"I know, I know. Just let me think."

"Sounds like you two have a problem."

Spyro jumped and spun around at the new voice that suddenly spoke up from directly behind them. Beside him Cynder did the same, dropping into a defensive stance, but as soon as the pair set eyes on the intruder they faltered.

"Enigma!" Cynder exclaimed, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Before them stood a young dragoness of almost identical age as the two heroes, standing only a couple of inches shorter than Spyro did and nearly exactly on a level with Cynder. Her scales were a deep onyx black that were polished to a perfect sheen, and yet that still seemed to suck light into them instead of reflect it as much as they should have. Two long, curved silver horns sprouted from the back of her narrow, angular head, each with a much smaller pair flanking it on either side. Two more small horns protruded from under the base of her jaw, curving back much more sharply than the others. Her claws were of the same pale silver colour, as well as the hooked blade that adorned the tip of her tail and the long curved claws that extended from her wing joint. Her underbelly and wings were a deep navy blue, and her hard, intense eyes were the same colouring, as were the two symmetrical, thin markings far back on her forehead.

Spyro had first encountered this mystery dragoness just over three months before, and apparently Cynder had met her a couple of weeks before that. When he had first seen Enigma she and Cynder had been standing side by side, and Spyro had been forced to stop and do a double take after at first mistaking them for sisters. Upon closer inspection the resemblance wasn't actually all that strong, but it was still close enough to all but cement Spyro's suspicions that, had Cynder not been corrupted by Malefor's powers and granted with her uncommon elemental abilities, she would have been a shadow dragoness.

In the intervening time Enigma had grown to be a close friend to both of them. One thing that unnerved Spyro about her, however, was the way that she never seemed to display any emotion. Her face was always set in a hard, cold mask, her eyes sharp and piercing. He couldn't imagine why she chose to bury her feelings and show nothing to the world around her, and it was something that had taken some time to get used to.

"I came looking for you two," Enigma said in response to Cynder's inquiry. "The Guardians were getting worried."

"Yeah, well, _someone_ got a bit distracted," Cynder replied wryly, casting an amused glare in Spyro's direction, and the purple dragon gave a sheepish grin. "And now we don't know how we're going to get around this crowd in time."

Enigma paused momentarily, her deep blue eyes darting over to the crowd obstructing their path before her gaze settled on Spyro, thoughtful.

"I can get you there if you would like."

Spyro and Cynder both blinked in surprise.

"You can?" Spyro asked, puzzled. "How?"

"We don't really have time for questions, do we?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Glad you understand," Enigma cut him off, at the same time closing the distance between them with two purposeful strides. Spyro was mildly startled when she reached up and placed her forepaw on his shoulder, her grip surprisingly tight and strong. "Hang on."

"Wait, what—" Spyro began, but before he could complete his question he suddenly found himself swimming in shadow.

It happened so suddenly that he couldn't make sense of it in his mind. All he was aware of was an impossibly total blackness all around him, as well as a profoundly strange and unsettling tugging feeling within him, as if his body, his very _being_ was being stretched and distorted. He felt like he was being smothered, unable to find air to fill his lungs—not that it mattered, since his chest felt like it was being crushed in a vice and so breathing in would have been impossible anyway. He felt lost and helpless, and it was all he could do to fight against the horrible spinning of his head.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The darkness surrounding him was replaced by harsh, glaring sunlight, and he noticed that the jumbled roar of the crowd seemed to have shifted, so that now it was nearly all around him instead of just ahead. Wobbling precariously and feeling quite dizzy, the purple dragon blinked multiple times to try and make his vision fall into focus again.

"Oh, Spyro!" a familiar rumbling, earthy voice exclaimed. "There you are!"

The world around him finally resolved into something recognizable, and when Spyro looked up he found a large green head gazing back at him. The Earth Guardian, Terrador, looked quite relieved to see him, but where had he come from? Feeling utterly disoriented and very confused, Spyro looked around to see that he was standing behind a raised stone platform, with Terrador and Volteer standing before him dressed in their own ceremonial armour. Enigma stood beside him, watching him with that same impassive expression.

"What..." he forced out unsteadily, still wobbling slightly on his feet. "What did you just do?"

"I solved your crowd problem," the dragoness replied plainly. "I'll get out of your way now. I'll probably see you after the ceremony."

With that, swirls of inky darkness appeared around her body, and before Spyro could stop her or ask for an explanation her body dissolved into shadow, vanishing into a patch of blackness on the ground. The dark blotch that was all that remained of her then darted off out of sight, leaving twisted curls of black smoke in its wake.

It dawned on him that this was how Enigma had gotten him through the crowd; by pulling him into the shadows with her and transporting him here. He was stunned by this realization, since before then he hadn't even known that it was possible for shadow dragons to bring others into their shadows with them.

_I wonder why Cynder never mentioned it._

"Well, you're right on time," Terrador said from behind him, jolting him back to the present. "Let's get this ceremony underway."

He lifted a massive forepaw and beat it twice against the raised stone platform beside him, which had been constructed over the past couple of days in the Temple courtyard to serve as a stage for this occasion. At the moment it served to shelter Spyro and the other dragons from the massive crowd on the other side, allotting them a small amount of privacy. When his paw impacted the stone Spyro felt a deep rumble pass through the ground beneath his feet, clearly a result of the Earth Guardian's element. Apparently it was a signal, for a second later a loud, self-important voice called out from out of sight up on the platform, projecting out over the roar of the crowd.

"Attention, everyone! I am pleased to announce that the time we have all been waiting for has come! Now, as you all know, we are gathered here today to mark a momentous occasion..."

"Come along, Volteer," Terrador said, turning to his yellow-scaled colleague. "Let's go join Cyril on the stage. Spyro, we'll see you up there momentarily."

"This is all so wonderful, incredible, fantastic, delightful!" Volteer chattered like an over-energetic hatchling as he followed Terrador toward the platform's steps. "I cannot even begin to describe how excited and exhilarated I am!"

"Oh, I'm sure you can, Volteer. I'm sure you can..."

Spyro watched with a grin on his face as the two Guardians disappeared up on the platform while Cyril continued his speech. For a moment all that could be heard was the jubilant thunder of the crowd and the Ice Guardian giving his opening address. Just then, however, Spyro heard the sound of a paw brushing against the cobblestones nearby, and he turned about to see a new figure that had just descended the steps from the Temple under the cover of the stage.

"Nervous?" Spyro asked with a smirk as the larger red dragon stepped up beside him, noticing easily the look of apprehension on his face.

"You have no idea," Sirius replied in a slightly unsteady voice. His whole body was shaking from anticipation and excess energy, his right forepaw repeatedly thumping against the ground. He seemed uncomfortable in his golden ceremonial armour, because he kept fidgeting with the chest plate and the helm as if they were stifling him. "I can't even remember the words for the speech I'm supposed to be giving up there. Oh, Ancestors, help me..."

Spyro chuckled and gave his head a small shake, unable to hide his amusement at the older dragon's anxiety. It was unusual to see the normally collected and confident dragon in such a state, and he was enjoying it.

"You must be excited, though," he said. "You've been waiting a long time for this. You should be proud."

Sirius nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. "Yeah, I am. I've worked so hard for this day, and dreamed about when it would come. But now that it's actually here...I just hope I don't pass out in front of everybody."

"Don't worry, I'll ice you if it looks like you're about to go down."

"Oh, thanks," the fire dragon snorted sarcastically, still as fidgety as ever. "Good thing I've got a pal like you watching my back."

Spyro grinned widely, chuckling to himself, and despite his nerves Sirius also gave a small smile.

Just then Cyril's voice up on the stage caught both of their attention, and they both looked up.

"...and so now, without any further delay, free citizens of the Dragon Realms, please give a warm welcome to our young colleague, Master of the Flame, Sirius the Dragon!"

The crowd roared with thunderous applause and approval, and beside him Spyro saw Sirius gulp nervously, his face paling and his eyes frozen wide with fear. He looked like someone that was about to step up onto the gallows. Grinning, Spyro nudged the larger dragon with a wing and nodded his helmeted head forward.

"Dear Ancestors," Sirius muttered. Then, after taking a long, deep breath, he squared his shoulders and ascended the stone steps, Spyro following right behind him.

The cheering rose to a fever pitch when the two of them appeared atop the wide stone platform for all to see, their armour gleaming in the sunlight. The three Guardians were standing a few paces over to their right, waiting for them and watching them approach with broad smiles on their faces. Sirius hesitated for a few seconds, struggling with his nerves, but then he forced himself to move over to join the elder dragons. Spyro followed before stopping a couple of steps back from the others, waiting for his turn in the proceedings.

As the three Guardians welcomed the younger dragon onto the stage with them, Spyro scanned the crowd in an attempt to locate any familiar faces. In the sea of bodies it was a difficult task, but at length he was able to spot Cynder a ways into the courtyard, sitting beside Enigma and looking back at him. When their gazes met she gave a smile and a small nod of her head, which he returned gratefully. Beside her Enigma's expression was still stony as ever, but it had at least softened a touch so that it wasn't quite as intense in light of the jovial atmosphere surrounding her.

Also in the crowd were Faren and Tythos, sitting much closer to the stage. Both fire dragons had huge smiles on their faces as they watched Sirius on the stage, the day they had all been waiting for finally having arrived. Spyro could tell that they were both immensely proud of their brother and son respectively, so much so that Faren hardly looked uncomfortable in the massive crowd, which would normally have terrified the shy dragoness.

Flash was the next dragon Spyro found with his gaze, the young light dragon's white scales and iridescent wings and chest hard to miss even in such a huge crowd. At that moment he wasn't facing the stage, however, but instead was giving a frown and a raised brow to the grey dragon sitting beside him, who was whispering something to him and sniggering. Spyro couldn't tell what it was that was so funny, and he wasn't sure he would like it if he knew. Instead he dismissed the matter from his mind and instead turned his focus back to the older dragons on the stage, who were now beginning the ceremony's proceedings.

"Sirius, in these recent months you have demonstrated an exemplary level of focus, discipline, and devotion in your training regarding the mastery of your element and in matters of governance and leadership," Terrador began in his deep, booming voice. "You have brought credit to your name and to your element, and you have demonstrated without a doubt that you are worthy of this prestigious title and office. You have made us all proud, young dragon."

Despite his anxiety, Sirius couldn't help but beam at those words from the respected Guardian. "Thank you, Master Terrador."

Terrador smiled, pleasure gleaming in his eyes. "On this day, the twenty third anniversary of your hatching, you come of age in our society and are thereby entitled to the full rights and privileges of an adult dragon of Warfang, including the appointment to stations of authority. On this day, it is our honour to bestow upon you the title of Guardian of Fire, if you will accept this position and this responsibility."

His smile growing wider by the second, Sirius nodded his head, all traces of his nerves slowly vanishing to be replaced by joy. "I will accept."

"I'm glad to hear it," Terrador beamed. "Now, then, you will be sworn in to your office. Do you, Sirius, as the new Guardian of Fire, swear to uphold the laws and traditions of our race justly and without bias, for the good of all the free races of these realms?"

Nodding his head, Sirius replied, "I swear."

Terrador stepped back with a satisfied nod, and Cyril immediately stepped forward into his place.

"Young dragon, do you swear to conduct yourself with the dignity and honour expected of one with your authority and position, and to uphold your integrity above all else for so long as you hold this office?"

Again Sirius nodded without hesitation. "I swear."

"Good lad," Cyril said with a stiff nod, backing away. Volteer eagerly moved up in front of Sirius, grinning from horn to horn with barely-contained excitement.

"Do you, upon taking up this mantel, swear to do all in your power to defend the peace in our lands and to ensure the safety, prosperity, and enlightenment of all those who live within them as your station prescribes?"

"I swear," Sirius replied, becoming giddy with the realization of what was actually happening in that moment.

Volteer grinned with pleasure and stepped back.

"It is our honour and our privilege, therefore, to grant you full authority as a Guardian of the Dragon Realms," Cyril declared proudly.

"May your reign in our order be long and prosperous, for so long as you chose to be a part of it," Terrador rumbled approvingly.

"And may this office bring you the joy, fulfillment, satisfaction and wisdom that it has brought to us over our many years," Volteer added brightly.

"Thank you," Sirius said, bowing his head gratefully to the three elders and beaming with pride and happiness.

Terrador turned his head and beckoned to a pair of elegantly robed moles that until that point had been standing back amongst the shadows of the decorative pillars that lined the platform's back edges. They quickly scurried forward, carrying a heavy relic of gold and crystal between them. Its shape was somewhat reminiscent of a torch, with a bright red spherical crystal sitting in place of a flame at its top. They stopped and held the relic up in front of Sirius, and Terrador smiled and gestured with a wing toward the fire dragon.

Sirius hesitated for a moment, staring into the deep, pure colour of the crystal in reverence and uncertainty. Then, with a look of resolve crossing his features, he held up a forepaw toward the crystal, the pad hovering just inches from its surface. A look of deep concentration creased his expression, and all became still in the courtyard as everyone watched with bated breath.

For a second nothing happened, but then the centre of the crystal seemed to flicker. A faint fiery glow appeared around Sirius's paw, and in response the crystal began to glow even more brightly. The magical energy of Sirius's element began to flow from his paw into the crystal, causing the light in its centre to flicker and pulse like fire itself, growing brighter with each passing second.

Then, suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of red light and Spyro winced as a wave of crimson energy exploded out from the crystal, sweeping over the courtyard and jostling the various creatures gathered there as it passed. A number of the observers uttered squeals of surprise and even fear, everyone jerking away and covering themselves from the magical shockwave. Then, when Spyro slowly looked back up, he faltered at the sight before him.

The crystal was now alive with a bright fiery light, its magnificent glow pouring out across the stage even in the sunlight. Across its polished surface danced wisps of flame, but Spyro noticed that the fire didn't burn the relic's delicate surface and the moles showed no fear of it, as if it could do no harm. The light radiated a comforting warmth with it, and it seemed to hold everyone present transfixed.

Then, all at once, the courtyard erupted with deafening cheering and applause. The two moles turned to face the crowd and hoisted the relic as high as they could manage, and in response the crowd's applause only increased in fervor.

"With the lighting of the sacred Relic of Flame, a new Fire Guardian has been named to our order!" Terrador proclaimed. "And let me be the first to say that I, Terrador, Guardian of Earth, approve of this appointing."

"I, Cyril, Guardian of Ice, also approve of this appointing," Cyril announced firmly.

"And I, Volteer, Guardian of Electricity, wholeheartedly and without reservation or hesitation approve of this appointing!" Volteer chimed in.

The crowd cheered once more. Taking his cue, Spyro stepped forward. The gathering immediately fell into an expectant hush, all eyes turning to the purple dragon. Spyro was silent for a number of seconds, subduing his anxiety. Then, in a clear and strong voice, he spoke.

"I, Spyro, purple dragon of this age and defender of these realms, declare my approval of Sirius's appointing as the new Guardian of Fire and hereby pledge my support to him and his office."

The crowd instantly exploded with jubilant cheering and approval, and despite his lingering nervousness Spyro smiled, pleased with the reaction and with his declaration. At first he had been hesitant when the Guardians had suggested he make this statement, worried about the ramifications of basically pledging formal allegiance to another dragon and to the order of Guardians, but then how many Guardians could say that they had been appointed to their position with the blessing of a purple dragon? In this regard he was happy that he was able to honour his friend in such a way on this momentous occasion.

"It is now official!" Terrador boomed happily, stepping forward to the edge of the platform. "Dragons and dragonesses, free peoples of these realms, let's welcome our young friend into his new station and wish him all the best in his many years to come!"

The response was deafening. Spyro added his own voice into the cheer as he turned to face Sirius, sitting back on his haunches and clapping his forepaws together enthusiastically. Sirius stood tall and proud, looking resplendent in his golden armour. A huge smile graced his features, and Spyro thought he saw the red dragon's eyes glistening with tears of joy and pride. After years of giving everything he had in him in pursuit of this dream, he had succeeded. Sirius was now the undisputed Guardian of Fire, and in that moment Spyro felt certain that a better successor to Ignitus could never be found.

He smiled. And all around him, the crowd cheered...

* * *

**And there you have it! The story is officially underway!**

**I'm going to warn you beforehand, though; I don't know how quickly I'll be able to update this story, and I have doubts that it will be as quick as it was with The Broken Line. I'll do my best, but I'm also still working slowly on my publisher search for my original story (very slowly), so my attention is going to be divided between those (and university, of course).  
**

**But I'll try! And as long as you can be patient with me, this story will go on! So, I hope you liked this first chapter, and I hope you like the story as it progresses! I have big plans for it. Oh yes, big plans... X)  
**

**Until next time...  
**


	2. Chapter 2: Festivities

**Surprise! An update already! :D**

**And no, I didn't write this whole thing in just three days. I had half of it done from before I uploaded chapter 1. I probably could have waited longer before posting this too, but I'd rather get as much in as I can before school starts and starts sucking away my writing time.  
**

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

_Chapter 2: Festivities_

The air was filled with a loud buzz of jovial conversation as the crowd within the city's central courtyard gradually dispersed into Warfang's streets, moving in mixed groups and all chatting excitedly to each other. The place had the atmosphere of some sort of carnival to it—and that actually wasn't too far off. The ceremony that afternoon had served as the opening event of a four week long festival that the Guardians and the moles had spent the last few months planning meticulously.

The Liberty Festival, as it had been dubbed, would include many events over the coming weeks for all the races and peoples of the realms to participate in; games, concerts, plays, contests, pageants, and much, much more were scheduled, all leading up to the festival's climax over the last five days of celebration; the freshly re-instated Warfang Tournament. Already the roster bore the names of over forty dragons from all across the lands that were eager to prove themselves against opponents just as determined as themselves, and registration would remain open right up to the day of the tournament's opening rounds.

Cynder, of course, had eagerly signed up as soon as the moles had begun taking the names of participants a couple of weeks prior. Spyro hadn't yet put his name down however, and he wasn't sure if he was going to. For one thing, a purple dragon in the tournament wouldn't exactly be fair, no matter how eager some of the other contestants may have been to test their mettle against him. For another, he was busy enough as it was. To his chagrin, the Guardians had scheduled countless appearances he was expected to make at all manner of events across the city, which he was sure would prove to be a nuisance as he tried to enjoy the festival for himself.

The purple dragon pushed those thoughts from his mind for the time being, trying to tune out the noise around him as he clumsily picked his way through the crowded courtyard. His head swivelled left and right, his eyes scanning the sea of bodies intently for the sight of black scales. After the ceremony's conclusion he had wasted no time in descending from the platform and into the courtyard below, but even so by the time he had emerged from behind the stage Cynder had already been lost in the crowd. Now he was trying his best to locate her so that they could depart for the physician's as they had decided before, but he was having no luck in locating her.

He perked up when a glint of black caught his eye, but when he looked again he was disappointed to see only an adult shadow dragon male. Turning away, he excused himself as he pushed past a pair of bipedal goats wearing well worn brown farming tunics and continued on his way. Twice more he stopped when he thought he might have caught sight of his quarry, but both times it turned out to be false alarms. For what felt like ages he looked, but there seemed to be no sign of Cynder anywhere.

He was so caught up in his search that before long he forgot to pay proper attention to what was happening around him, and this proved to be costly. Without warning he felt something collide with his right shoulder and foreleg, and with a startled cry he tripped and landed flat on his chest on the hard cobblestones, his armour making a dull clang as the heavy chest plate impacted the ground. He grunted as the wind was knocked out of his chest and cringed as he heard the sound of metal scraping against unforgiving stone, praying that his armour hadn't been damaged.

"Oh my gosh!" a voice exclaimed from just beside him. "Are you alright?"

Spyro tilted his head up to see a bright yellow-scaled dragoness about his age gazing down at him with a look almost akin to horror on her face. She was of moderate build, with four angular silver horns, black wing membranes and chest scales, a three-piece blade on the end of her tail and bright electric blue eyes. Those eyes were now wide as dinner plates as realization dawned on the dragoness as to what she had just done, and she appeared mortified as if she was guilty of some terrible crime.

"I'm fine," Spyro grunted in answer to her question as he began pushing himself up off the ground. "You just caught me by surprise there."

"I am _so_ sorry," the dragoness said shamefully, at the same time hooking a paw under his foreleg to help him back to his feet. Once he had been steadied, she rested a forepaw on his shoulder, leaned in close and began hastily brushing off the dust and dirt from his silver chest plate, to which he didn't quite know how to react. "I can't believe I didn't see you there! Oh, Ancestors, I am such a klutz. And of course the dragon I knock over has to be you, the purple dragon, as if I wasn't humiliated enough! I really am sorry. I just got turned around in this crowd, and then..."

She trailed off when she finally noticed the strange look Spyro was giving her, and it seemed that she only realized then what she was doing. The scales on her cheeks flushed red and she quickly snatched her paws away, shuffling nervously.

"Sorry," she muttered sheepishly. "I'm kind of the touchy type. I don't do it intentionally. Just the way I am, I guess." An awkward silence fell between them, and as the seconds ticked by the dragoness appeared to grow more and more uncomfortable, until finally she said, "My name is Voltra, by the way."

"Spyro," the purple dragon replied slowly, though he wondered afterward whether or not she already knew that.

Voltra gave a quiet, nervous laugh. "Nice to meet you. And I'm really sorry about knocking you down like that. I should have been paying more attention."

Spyro chuckled, finally beginning to overcome his surprise. "Well, I don't think it was completely your fault. I wasn't really watching where I was going either."

Voltra gave a small grin, also beginning to appear slightly more at ease, though still embarrassed.

"So, where were you trying to get to before I took you out?" she asked.

"Oh, I was just trying to find someone," Spyro replied, at the same time lifting his head and scanning the swarm of bodies around him. "As soon as I got down from the platform I lost her in the crowd, and now I can't find her."

"Oh yeah, I know what you mean," the yellow dragoness snorted. "It's insane in here." Then suddenly her expression changed, becoming thoughtful. "Hey, wait. Are you talking about Cynder?"

Spyro was caught mildly by surprise that she had deduced that so quickly, but nonetheless he eventually nodded. "Yeah. Why? Have you seen her?"

Voltra nodded quickly. "Yeah, I saw her just a second ago. Right over there, with a couple of other dragons."

She pointed with a forepaw toward the northern end of the courtyard, and Spyro followed with his gaze. The crowd parted momentarily, and sure enough there was Cynder, sitting at the top of one of the sets of steps leading down into the city's streets from the Temple grounds. She looked up and caught sight of him just a second after he spotted her, and immediately she lifted a forepaw and waved, beckoning him over.

"Oh, great," he said with a relieved sigh, glad that he didn't have to search through the tangled crowd any longer. "Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it," Voltra giggled, grinning brightly. "Glad I could do something to make amends for making you eat sandstone just now."

Spyro chuckled, grinning as well, but just then a call from somewhere in the crowd caused both young dragons to look up.

"Voltra!" came a female voice. "Where are you?"

"Oh, that's my mom," the electricity dragoness said hurriedly, rising to her feet. "I've got to go, but it was really nice meeting you, Spyro."

"You too," Spyro answered. "Maybe we'll run into each other again some time." Then, realising the unintended pun in his words, he added wryly, "Preferably without you taking my forepaws out from under me again."

Voltra grinned. "Sounds good. Okay, bye!"

Without further delay she spun around and pushed her way into the crowd, fighting her way toward where her mother's voice was still calling her name. Within seconds she had disappeared, and once she had Spyro turned and set off on his own way, still grinning slightly to himself as he thought over their odd encounter. It only took him a few short moments to make it to his destination now that it was within sight, and once he had reached the edge of the courtyard and extracted himself from the sea of bodies he hurried over to where Cynder was waiting.

"There you are," he sighed heavily once he had stopped in front of the black dragoness, who at that moment was sitting with Enigma beside her, as well as Flash and the grey dragon that had been with him in the crowd. "Sorry about that. It's so hard to keep track of someone in a crowd like that."

Cynder gave a wry snort before her expression took on a questioning air. "Who was that you were talking to?"

"Oh, that dragoness? I not sure; I've never seen her before now. We just bumped into each other by accident. She said her name was Voltra."

"Hmm," Cynder grunted, an odd look in her eyes, but only a second later she shrugged. "Okay. Well, I guess the two of us should get going then, huh? The sooner we get this out of the way, the sooner we can check out the festival."

Spyro nodded his head in agreement. "Alright. Just as soon as I get out of this armour, we'll go."

"Where are you going?" Flash asked, a look of puzzlement in his bright blue eyes.

"Spyro needs to go see the physician again," Cynder replied, and Spyro immediately sighed and dragged a forepaw across his face, not appreciating how casually she was passing that information about. The younger white dragon cast Spyro a surprised look.

"Again?" he asked.

"Wow, that really blows," the grey dragon snickered with a light, teasing grin on his features, which earned him a hard look from his companions.

The dragon, whose name was Chinook, was a relatively new addition to their group of friends, having arrived in Warfang with his parents just over two months before. Like Enigma, he was the same age as Spyro and Cynder, and he was a wind dragon, which was quite obvious in his appearance.

Aside from his grey scales, he sported a slightly off-white chest, underbelly, and wings, the pale colouring bearing just a hint of blue in the otherwise clean white shade. His wings were slightly larger than those of most dragons his age, with a long, narrow profile that was ideal for flying at high speed. A thin frill of the same shade as his chest and wings ran from between his two bent white horns all the way down his spine, terminating in a wide fan-like membrane on the tip of his tail that was curled at the edges like wisps of cloud. This fan was also sharp along the front, giving it decent cutting power in a fight. His lower back was also decorated with two smaller frills, and there were more on the backs of each of his four legs. These frills were not only for decoration, however; while he was flying they helped channel the flow of air around his body, making him unbelievably manoeuvrable in the air. When he was flying, he was virtually uncatchable.

"I can't believe you have to miss the start of the festival for a trip to the healers," he continued, still smirking. "Man, sure sucks to be a crip—OW!"

He was cut short when the flat of Enigma's tail blade clubbed him upside the head, and he shot a wounded look at the black dragoness, but she only rolled her eyes.

"What was that for?" he asked obliviously.

She didn't bother to answer, but beside him Flash sighed.

"You can be such an idiot sometimes, Chik," the light dragon told him with a mild glare on his face.

"What?" he repeated, just as clueless as before and casting helpless looks around at the others. He faltered when his gaze met Spyro's and he saw the way that the purple dragon was glowering at him, however.

"I'm not a cripple," he said pointedly, a hard edge in his tone. "And having to see a physician from time to time doesn't mean anything. I can still keep up with anybody in this city in any physical test, so don't go thinking that I'm—"

"Whoa, okay, okay," Chinook said hurriedly, his forepaws raised in defence. "I get it. I didn't mean anything by it, alright?"

Spyro held his gaze for a few seconds longer, debating if he should let the other dragon off for such a remark or not, but eventually he let out a long sigh.

"Yeah, alright," he relented, looking away briefly.

Chinook's posture relaxed, the grey dragon appearing relieved but now also a bit guilty when he saw the tense look in Spyro's eyes.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he said, the mischief gone from his tone. "I didn't know it was such a big deal for you."

Spyro grunted stiffly, glancing down at his left bracer which hid his scar.

"It's fine. Just forget about it." He then looked up at Cynder. "Should we get going?"

She nodded quickly before turning to their companions.

"We'll catch up with you guys later. We shouldn't be too long."

The others all bobbed their heads in acknowledgement, rising to their feet at the same time that Cynder did to depart.

"We'll be over by the game stalls in the east square," Chinook told them, turning to set off in that direction.

"Alright," Spyro nodded. "See you guys there."

The three other dragons nodded in reply before making their way into the crowd that was still dispersing into the city. Once they had gone Spyro and Cynder likewise departed, turning about and setting off to the north to return to Spyro's room. They moved at an unhurried pace, weaving through the clusters of citizens and guests in the street. It was a number of minutes before they reached the residence building, and once there they entered without delay and climbed the stairs to their floor. Spyro's armour was off in only a few minutes, and once that was accomplished the two young dragons returned to the streets, heading toward the infirmary.

Just as before, progress was slow in the densely packed streets. Everywhere Spyro and Cynder looked there were creatures of all types scampering about, eager to take part in the festival's various activities. The buzz of animated conversation filled the air, layered over a festive melody of flutes and assorted stringed instruments that drifted through the streets from an open-air concert taking place in the gardens to the south. Combined with the bright decorations, it created the sort of atmosphere that naturally brought a smile to one's face.

Spyro couldn't resist such a smile from forming as he looked around at the scene of happiness and joy. It lifted his heart tremendously to see so many dragons—as well as the numerous other races present—enjoying themselves out in the open without any hint of fear or tension about them. It caused a swell of hope for their future within him. Maybe, just maybe, their worst times were finally behind them.

"What are you grinning about?" Cynder asked when she noticed his bright expression, and Spyro turned to see the dragoness watching him with a small smile on her features.

"Oh, nothing," he replied with a small, contented sigh before looking around again. "It just feels good, you know? Like everything was worth it."

Cynder's smile widened, and she gave a soft chuckle before briefly rubbing her shoulder against his. Then she returned her attention to the street as well. Side by side they continued on their way, allowing themselves to enjoy the fruit of their struggles and savouring every moment of it.

An unfortunate stroke of chance interrupted their peaceful moment, however. Engrossed by the scene around him, Spyro once again failed to pay proper attention to where he was going, and at one point as he lowered his right forepaw to step onto it he was startled by a sharp, indignant exclamation.

"Hey!" an irate voice cried. "Airhead!"

Spyro jolted back at the unexpected shout, and beside him Cynder did the same. The purple dragon cast his gaze about in search of the speaker, but he frowned in confusion when he saw no one.

"Down here, nimrod," the voice came again.

Spyro finally realized that the source of the voice was well below his line of vision, and he quickly tilted his head down to see, to his surprise, a very angry-looking prairie dog glaring back up at him, his tiny fists planted on his hips and a deep scowl on his features. He barely reached a third of the way up Spyro's foreleg in height, but it seemed as if to the diminutive creature that fact didn't matter in the slightest.

"You blind, giant boy?" the rodent snapped. "You could trample somebody, stomping around with your head in the clouds like that! My kids are right here, for the Ancestors' sake!"

He gestured sharply behind him, indicating the two tiny prairie dog younglings that were pressed up fearfully to an adult female, who must have been the speaker's mate. Immediately Spyro felt a swell of guilt rise within him.

"I'm sorry," he said abashedly, facing the angry male again. "I didn't see you."

"Obviously," the prairie dog snorted in disdain. "So how about you watch where you're stepping before you crush someone, mister hero."

With that the squat little rodent turned stiffly to his right and stormed off, ushering his family along with him and grumbling to himself all the way. Spyro was too stunned to respond for several long seconds, finding himself utterly unaccustomed to anyone speaking to him in that kind of tone. It was unsettling, and left him feeling oddly confused on top of the guilt already inside him.

"Well," Cynder spoke up a moment later, looking after the prairie dogs with surprise still in her expression. "For such a little creature, he sure has some big attitude."

The comment caused Spyro to give a small snort of laughter, finally shaking off his daze and turning his head to face the black dragoness, who was now shooting him a wry smirk out of the corner of her eye.

"Maybe nobody told him how small he was."

Now it was Cynder's turn to laugh. Then, shaking her head with amusement, she resumed her way down the crowded street and Spyro matched her pace. As they walked, Cynder cast another smirk in the purple dragon's direction.

"The look on your face was priceless," she snickered. "I've never seen your eyes so big." Then she paused thoughtfully before adding, "Well, there was that time at Munitions Forge, but other than that..."

Spyro scowled at her teasing, but he could feel a grin threatening to break through to the surface at any time as well.

"What was the matter?" Cynder continued playfully. "Your first time getting yelled at by someone so small?"

Spyro shook his head, then turned his head slightly and met his companion's gaze, a glint of humour in his eyes.

"Sparx," he said simply.

"Oh, riiiight," Cynder nodded slowly. "Of course. Sparkles."

Spyro snorted again as he stifled a laugh at the nickname.

It was something that had started not long after things had settled down once the battles against Nexus had passed. Without the constant danger to keep their attention focussed elsewhere, the dragonfly and dragoness had quickly returned to pestering each other for entertainment. In addition to their usual antics a competition of name-calling had soon developed, with each one trying to outdo the other with demeaning monikers while not going over the line—for now, at least. Cynder's most recent jab in their verbal fencing match was the name 'Sparkles'. While simple, it aggravated the little dragonfly to no end. In his words, it was 'like some stupid fairy's name'.

Cynder had eagerly pounced on that imprudent slip. Now, it wasn't uncommon to hear the name 'Sparkles the Fairy' used in public conversation when the dragoness really wanted to get on Sparx's nerves.

As of yet, Sparx had no appropriate retaliation to reply with. He had tried 'Deadly Nightshade' just a couple of weeks prior, but to his chagrin Cynder had found she actually liked the sound of it. Since then he had been unable to come up with anything that Cynder hated sufficiently, and so for the time being he was forced to concede defeat.

Spyro wondered if perhaps this was part of the reason that the dragonfly was presently absent. Four days earlier he had announced to Spyro that he wanted to spend some time back at their old home in the swamp for a little quiet and relaxation, and he had departed the next morning. At the time Spyro had assumed that it was because of how busy the city had increasingly become with the imminent festivities, but now he realized that he may have just reached the end of his patience with the smug black dragoness.

He had to admit that he was enjoying the peace that Sparx's departure had brought with it, but he did still miss his brother's familiar presence from time to time. Surprisingly it seemed that Cynder did too, though if only because it left her without her favourite target for abuse.

"I wonder what that little gnat is up to now," Spyro thought aloud as the pair continued winding their way down the cobbled streets, slowly but steadily growing nearer to their destination.

"Probably driving your parents crazy," Cynder replied without hesitation. "Pretty soon they'll be coming here to get away from him."

"Think so? That might be nice."

"You wouldn't be worried about them getting squashed in this chaos?"

Spyro became silent for a short moment in contemplation.

"Maybe you're right," he grunted shortly afterward.

Cynder gave a triumphant grin as if to say, 'of course I am,' and Spyro rolled his eyes with a quiet chuckle.

Just at that moment the pair rounded a corner in the street and their destination finally appeared ahead of them. Crossing the crowded street was something of a challenge, but once that had been accomplished the two dragons hurried up the sturdy granite steps of the city's infirmary and passed through its open doorway into the cool, shaded foyer. The interior of the building was significantly quieter than the streets outside, not surprisingly, and Spyro gave a small sigh of relief to be free of the bustle and congestion.

As the young pair advanced further into the building a mole attendant at a desk off to the side of the room looked up. Upon seeing the famous duo standing before her, a look of surprise flashed through her beady eyes before she quickly extracted herself from behind the desk and hurried out to meet them.

"My, this is a surprise to see you young ones here," the stout mole told them. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I'm just here for a quick visit with the physician," Spyro replied, a mild feeling of distaste entering him as he spoke.

A look of understanding came over the mole's features, and she nodded her head quickly. "Of course. I'll let him know you're here. If you would like you can have a seat while you wait and I'm sure he'll be able to see you shortly."

"Thank you," Spyro said, and beside him Cynder inclined her head gratefully as well. Then, as the furry healer scampered off the two young dragons turned about and padded over to the row of large, fluffy cushions that lined the far wall of the foyer. They soon found one that was to their liking, and together they lay down atop it on their stomachs, side by side.

A number of minutes passed without a word spoken, Spyro lying almost motionlessly atop the cushion and picking unconsciously at the damaged scales on his left foreleg with a single claw—a bad habit he had developed when stressed or irritated. The only sounds in the room were the muffled buzz of activity in the streets outside and the occasional soft words from the only other waiting party in the room; a pale blue and white ice dragoness with a young hatchling by her side that couldn't have been more than a couple of years old. The little ice dragon appeared to be suffering from a fever, and his mother was currently resting a forepaw over his forehead, using a thin film of ice to try and keep his temperature down.

Spyro quickly noticed the way the tiny dragon was frequently looking in his direction with wide eyes, only to be gently scolded by his mother to stop staring. He couldn't help the faint smile from appearing on his muzzle, and the next time the hatchling looked his way he smiled more openly and nodded his head. Beside him Cynder also smiled warmly and waved. In response the hatching quickly turned away and buried his head shyly under his mother's foreleg.

The dragoness chuckled and gave a respectful nod to Spyro and Cynder, grinning at the youngling's antics, and the two younger dragons returned the gesture. Spyro did notice that when the dragoness met Cynder's gaze there was a hard, guarded edge that entered her eyes for a fleeting moment, but it was gone soon after and the black dragoness seemed unfazed by it. It was something that happened regularly enough, after all, and certainly wasn't the worst she was subjected to at times—most of the population of Warfang had accepted her by now as a hero and forgiven her for her dark past, but the dragons from the other cities that were now visiting Warfang often weren't as understanding, and grudges could run quite deep.

Those thoughts were erased from Spyro's mind when he heard his name being called, and he looked up to see the mole attendant beckoning toward him from the hallway that led from the foyer to the treatment rooms. He quickly rose to his feet and headed for the hall, nodding his thanks to the mole as he passed her by—he didn't need her to lead him to the physician's office, having been there numerous times before over the last five months. Only a minute later he and Cynder stepped up to a wooden door that stood at the back of a side hallway that branched off from the main corridor. After a brief pause the purple dragon then reached up and knocked with a balled forepaw.

"Come in," a muffled voice answered from within.

Spyro let out a quiet sigh before pushing the thick wooden door open and stepping through, Cynder following behind him. Awaiting them on the other side was a respectably spacious office that was cordoned off into two halves. The nearer half was dominated by a desk and a set of shelves. The other was more open, with a large plain cushion sitting on the floor as well as different padded seats along the back wall, allowing patients of both the dragon and mole varieties to sit comfortably while the physician performed his work. The room was illuminated by a single small window in the back wall, as well as covered candles and lanterns.

Standing in front of the desk and ruffling through a small stack of thick papers and parchment was a rather thin mole that looked to be what Spyro would call borderline-elderly; not so old as to be slowing down too much yet, but still old enough to have a accumulated a strong base of experience and wisdom. Upon the bridge of the mole's nose sat a strange sort of mole invention that they called 'spectacles', the circular lenses of which made the mole's eyes appear enlarged in an almost comical fashion. Despite his unusual appearance, however, the mole carried himself with a proud yet approachable air, and when he turned around to face the two dragons his smile was kind.

"Ah, Master Spyro," the mole said warmly as the purple dragon drew to a halt a few paces from him. "How are you, my young friend?"

"Well enough I guess, thanks Geldric," Spyro replied, giving a small smile.

The smile was something that he couldn't help, despite the situation. While his need to make these trips to the physician's office was an annoying bother to him, he quite liked Geldric for his kind, light-hearted personality and the way he strove to make patients' visits as comfortable as possible. He only wished he could see the mole more often outside of the healers' pavilion.

"Glad to hear it," the physician declared brightly in response to Spyro's words before turning his gaze on his routine patient's companion and bobbing his head graciously. "Cynder. Nice to see you."

Cynder smiled and inclined her head as her simple reply. Geldric then turned his attention back to Spyro, a mildly quizzical look coming over his features.

"So what brings you here today, my boy?" he asked curiously. "Our next appointment wasn't supposed to be for another week and a half."

"I know," Spyro nodded, glancing down at his scar with a small scowl. "But my leg acted up a little bit just before Sirius's appointing ceremony, so Cynder thought I needed to come check in with you."

"Oh, sure," Cynder snorted, rolling her eyes with a wry smile at the corner of her mouth. "Make me out to be the bad guy."

"Well..."

"Don't start."

Geldric chuckled, a glint in his eyes as he listened to their exchange. "Well, I understand that it may not be your favourite thing coming here, but it can't hurt to be careful. Now why don't we just have a quick look at that leg to make sure everything checks out before you're on your way? It should only take a few minutes."

Spyro sighed again but relented, nodding. "Alright."

"Good, good. Go ahead and get comfortable, then, and I'll be right with you."

Spyro nodded once more, then turned and began padding over to the cushion on the other side of the room. He paused and gave a small frown of confusion, however, when he saw Cynder moving to sit nearby.

"You don't have to stay, you know," he told her. "If you want to go ahead and meet up with the others that's fine."

Cynder shook her head. "It's alright. It wouldn't be as fun without you anyway."

Spyro studied her for a moment, unsure how to respond, feeling both happy that she wanted to stay with him but also a bit guilty that she was missing the festival on his account. In the end he settled for giving her a grateful smile before turning to watch Geldric as he finished putting away the papers he had been looking over before, trying to keep his irritation at his present situation in check.

Finally Geldric finished with his patient notes, shutting the last drawer in his heavy wooden desk with a dull _clunk_. Once his work was complete the mole scurried over to the purple dragon's side, pulling up a small stool and sitting down facing his patient. Spyro allowed Geldric to take his left foreleg in his small paws, lifting it up so that he could see it better.

"Now then," the mole said, leaning over to examine the old battle wound. "Let's see what the trouble is..."

***.*.***

"I still can't believe this is really happening."

Flash glanced up to his left at the sound of Chinook's excited voice as he, the wind dragon and Enigma weaved their way through the mixed groups of revellers that filled the city's east square. At that moment Chinook had a broad grin plastered across his face, which made him look like some over-excited hatchling, and in his light grey eyes sparkled the same look of energy and eagerness.

"Can't believe what's really happening?" Flash asked him after a short pause.

"This," Chinook repeated, gesturing with his wings to their surroundings. "All of this. Think about it! Here we are, in the greatest dragon city in the Realms, actually seeing one of its famous festivals that you always hear stories about from before the war. This is probably the first time in our lifetimes that something like this has actually happened, and we get to be right in the middle of it!"

Flash was caught mildly by surprise by what he was hearing, and he studied the wind dragon curiously after exchanging a brief glance with Enigma. Then the black dragoness spoke up.

"That's deep, Chik," she commented, and Flash thought she was a bit surprised as well, though this was only a guess since her expression and tone were as impassive as always. "I never pegged you for the type to appreciate that sort of cultural trivia."

"Pfft!" Chinook snorted, grinning widely. "Who cares about culture? This is going to be a blast! Do either of you know if they're doing any kinds of races during this thing?"

Flash sighed and rolled his eyes with a small feeling of exasperation. He should have realized that the only thing Chinook would care about was having a good time. That seemed to be the only thing he ever had on his mind.

"So what should we do first while we're here?" the young light dragon asked after a moment passed in silence, glancing around at the various game stalls that bordered the square.

"I don't know," Chinook replied, also looking around him. "Let's stop up there and see if anything catches our eye."

He pointed toward the fountain that stood a few dozen metres ahead of them, which was built at the highest point in the square. Deciding that the wind dragon's plan was a decent one, Flash followed as Chinook led the trio over to its rim and sat down facing out over the rest of the square. For just a brief second his mind flashed back to several months before when he realized that he was sitting in the exact same spot he had been when Nexus had made his bold appearance in that very square after the heated battle against his grublins.

He was shaken out of those thoughts, however, when a sudden breeze kicked up and he felt a spray of cold mist from the fountain against his scales, and he looked up just in time to witness Enigma clubbing Chinook over the head with her tail after he apparently used his wind abilities to soak her with spray from the fountain. He rolled his eyes again and turned his attention back to the activity in the square, watching as patrons of all species lined up to try their hand—or paw, as the case may be—at the various games spread out invitingly before them.

After a number of minutes passed spent debating which games to try and finding themselves unable to come to an agreement, the group elected to simply wait there for Spyro and Cynder to arrive and passed their time in light conversation. A feeling of contentment came over Flash as he sat there with his friends, looking out over the revelling city. He realized that Chinook's earlier words and excitement had been right after all; he had never seen so many different people so happy and enjoying themselves like this before, growing up with a war looming over his secluded home as he had, and now he found that he was glad he was able to be a part of it.

The trio's conversations wandered from topic to topic, never broaching topics of much importance. They were satisfied to simply chat about trivial matters, like what sorts of surprises the Guardians and other festival organizers might have in store for the first night of celebrations, or what shows they wanted to see the most, or who stood the best chance in the Warfang Tournament, in which Enigma was already registered as a participant and Chinook was debating whether he wanted to sign up as well. Eventually, though, Chinook's demeanour suddenly took on a more serious air, and a thoughtful look came over his expression.

"Hey, guys," he said during a lull in their conversation. "I was just thinking about something. Do either of you know why Spyro's so defensive about his leg?"

Flash was caught off guard by the abrupt shift in the topic of discussion, and he fixed the wind dragon with a puzzled look.

"Why are you asking?" he said.

Chinook gave a small shrug, looking slightly uncertain. "I dunno. It's just something that's always confused me. I mean, after all the fighting that's gone on over all these years lots of people have battle scars, but he never talks about it and whenever someone brings it up he gets all tense and sour, you know? It just doesn't seem like him to make a big deal out of something like that."

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Enigma asked him with a brow arched. "He's supposed to be this legendary, all powerful dragon. How do you think it feels for him to always be hindered by a wound like that, then?"

"So it's like some kind of pride thing?" Chinook asked dubiously. "That doesn't seem like Spyro either."

"No, I don't think it's pride," Flash said, shaking his head.

"He probably feels humiliated, being the only one he knows that has to make constant trips to the healers for a physical infirmity, like it makes him weak," Enigma explained. "Even the Guardians, who have been in all kinds of battles and have suffered some serious wounds, don't need the help of a physician now. How do you think that makes him feel, when he's supposed to be the strongest out of all of us?"

"But he still is the strongest out of all of us," Chinook protested. "It's not even a contest! Cynder's the only one that can even come close to him."

"No argument, but still, that's how I think he sees it."

Chinook fell into contemplative silence, his expression distant as he considered what he had been told. After a short while it seemed he decided to accept his friends' explanation and he gave a small nod.

"Alright. So how did he get that scar, anyway?"

Immediately Flash and Enigma both gave him the same hard gaze, and the wind dragon faltered and drew back in confusion.

"What?" he said, glancing back and forth between the two of them in bewilderment.

"You don't need to know," Enigma told him purposefully. "And if you have any sense at all, you won't ever ask him. Or Cynder."

"Why not?" Chinook asked, beginning to grow uneasy. "Isn't it just some normal battle scar?"

Neither Flash nor Enigma answered him. Instead they exchanged a silent glance before facing Chinook once more. Flash had a grim look on his expression, while Enigma's was carefully masked but intense.

"What aren't you guys telling me?" Chinook asked them, looking between them suspiciously. He locked gazes with Enigma. "Do you know what happened?"

"Cynder told me," the dragoness replied. "But only because circumstances just kind of forced it to come up. I already had an idea of the story behind it, so she just filled in the details."

Chinook grunted, unsatisfied, his expression still suspicious. Then he turned to Flash.

"And what about you? Did Spyro tell you because you two are buddies or something?"

Flash felt his features darkening. He turned his gaze away into the distance, memories of that difficult day surfacing in his mind, and he let out a slow sigh.

"I was there," he said at length, grimly.

Chinook faltered, not expecting such a reply, and his expression once again became uneasy when he saw the hard look in Flash's eyes and finally began to realize that the story wasn't a pleasant one.

"So what happened?"

Again Flash and Enigma were silent for a moment, but finally Flash said, "I don't think it's our place to tell you."

"What?" Chinook blurted, stunned. "Why not? It can't really be that big of a deal, can it? What's so bad about saying it?"

"No, Flash is right," Enigma said, shaking her head. "If the time comes that you need to know then they'll tell you. Otherwise, you just have to accept it. That, or figure it out on your own. It isn't too hard if you try, really."

"Just don't bring it up if you do," Flash said warningly.

Chinook cast them both pleading looks, clearly desperate to know what they were hiding from him. Inside Flash did feel sympathetic toward him, knowing that if it was him that was being blocked out his curiosity would drive him crazy, but he wasn't about to betray Spyro by talking about it behind his back. Then, at length, Chinook let out a disappointed sigh and scowled.

"You guys suck," he grumbled.

Flash and Enigma both remained silent, and Chinook had no choice but to admit defeat in the matter. Resignedly he let the issue drop, and after a deep breath to clear his head he looked up and around the square again. Just then Flash noticed him straighten suddenly.

"Hey, there they are now," he said.

Surprised, Flash followed his gaze and sure enough he caught sight of Spyro and Cynder approaching through the crowd. The pair drew to a halt in front of them only a short moment later, their gazes passing over each of the other three dragons in turn.

"That didn't take very long," Flash remarked. "What did the physician say?"

"He figured it was just tension," Spyro replied, absently stretching his left foreleg as he spoke. "No big deal."

"Glad to hear it," Chinook said, and Flash was relieved to see that the wind dragon had erased all signs of his disappointment from their earlier conversation. Then, addressing the whole group, he said, "So what should we do now?"

"I don't know," Cynder replied, glancing around. "You guys haven't seen Faren since the ceremony, have you?"

"No," Flash told her, shaking his head. "She's probably with Sirius and their father, celebrating."

"Well then I say the first thing we should do is go and find them," Cynder declared. "I still have to wish Sirius a happy hatching-day, anyway."

"But we didn't try any of the games yet," Chinook protested, looking back toward the lines of busy stalls, from which the sounds of laughter and excited conversation carried to them over the crowd.

"It's not like they're going anywhere," Flash pointed out.

"Hmph," Chinook grunted, a faint gust of wind escaping his nostrils. "Oh, alright, fine. We'll meet up with Faren and then come back."

"Sounds like a plan," Spyro said. "So, back to the Temple?"

The others nodded.

"Lead the way, mighty hero," Cynder teased, bowing her head and gesturing with a wing for him to take the head position.

Spyro gave a wry grin, but nonetheless he did step ahead of the others and began leading them back up to the city's highest levels. The going was slow, for most of the crowds were moving in the opposite direction to partake in the festival's activities, but Flash didn't mind. He was in no rush, content to take their time and enjoy the joyous atmosphere. After the trials that many of them had been through in the past, it was nothing if not a welcome change. Gradually the group of five worked their way up through the streets, all of them eager to simply enjoy themselves in the celebrations that were sweeping all across the city.

The Liberty Festival was officially underway.

* * *

**So, a bit shorter than last time, but still sizable enough I think. And what's this? More characters? Where are all these guys coming from?**

**Anyway, that's all for now. Thanks to all of you who reviewed the first chapter! :)  
**

**Until next time...  
**


	3. Chapter 3: Onset

**Another quick update! Again, only because a large portion of this chapter was already pre-written, so don't expect this to happen too often from this point on.**

**Still, no reason to keep you waiting for more any longer. Hope you like it!  
**

* * *

_Chapter 3: Onset_

Silence.

It was infinite; all-consuming. Whether atop the highest peaks of the narrow, jagged mountain formations or in the valleys and canyons below, or within the deepest corridors or out in the courtyards of the cold, ancient temple in the island's centre, it was a simple reality. Even the coast bore its own form of silence, the steady rhythm of the waves on the pebbled beaches so steady and unchanging that it was rapidly tuned out, leaving only stillness.

It was inescapable.

It was _suffocating_.

And yet, to a lone figure sitting in the centre of a plain circular chamber deep within the temple, it was also a necessity. His eyes were closed, his breathing measured and soundless as he trained all of his senses on his surroundings, waiting. The flickering light that reflected off of his violet scales was the only thing that moved as his flanks rose and fell in their steady cycle.

Ages seemed to pass, or it might have been only a couple of minutes. To the young purple dragon it didn't matter. His focus was absolute, both his natural senses and those granted to him by his elements trained for the slightest disturbance in his environment. He no longer noticed the passing of time, nor did he acknowledge the growing discomfort in his limbs from being locked in one place for so long.

Everything was still...

Then, in the blink of an eye, the silence was shattered like glass.

He felt it before he heard it. A foot impacted the ground a dozen metres behind him and to his right, sending a whisper of a vibration through the stone floor that he easily locked on to. Only a fraction of a second after he detected the movement the ground underneath the intruder erupted with a trio of long, vicious spears of stone. They struck with pinpoint precision and unbelievable speed, piercing through the aggressor so quickly and forcefully that its body was shattered.

Something else moved to his left, and Nexus reacted just as quickly as before. A bolt of lightning tore through the air, originating from seemingly out of nowhere and tearing right through the torso of his new opponent. His foe convulsed wildly before falling limply to the ground, unmoving.

Nexus hadn't even opened his eyes yet.

The next several seconds were chaos. Or at least so it appeared, but in fact everything that happened was directed with impeccable precision. All around the chamber, previously hidden assailants were felled with brutal efficiency. One dropped to the ground with a half dozen spears of ice protruding from its body. Another had most of its torso burned away by a fiery explosion. More lightning dispatched another pair with a single bolt, and various earth spikes brought four more to their ends, Nexus favouring them over his other elements because of their ability to strike instantly, anywhere in the room.

When the dust and smoke cleared, Nexus was once again sitting alone in a still chamber. He spent another moment without moving, listening to his surroundings to see if there were any lingering threats. When he was satisfied that there were none, he slowly cracked his eyes open and surveyed the scene.

_Bit of a mess_, he thought with cold detachment.

The floor around him had been torn up in several places by his various attacks, and lumps of stone rubble littered the chamber amidst puddles of melting ice and scorch marks from fire and electricity. Strewn everywhere amongst the debris were the broken remains of several stone soldiers, all that was left of the animated statues that, among other things, filled the role of training dummies on this mysterious island. Even as he watched these remains vanished one by one in dim flashes of white light, and more statues appeared with accompanying flashes on the pedestals all around the room. They remained motionless, frozen in postures of battle, ready to come to life once they were needed.

"Your skills are most impressive."

In a motion that was almost too fast to follow Nexus whirled to face to source of the sudden voice, his body going rigid as he dropped immediately into a fighting stance. The snarl on his features wavered when the speaker came into sight, however. A moment later he straightened, letting out a measured breath and allowing his body to relax.

"As are your reflexes," Ignitus said, a wry smile turning up the corner of his muzzle, a glimmer in his eyes.

Nexus gave a stiff grunt, sitting down on his haunches facing the Chronicler, frowning.

"You know, you move pretty quietly for an old geezer."

"Indeed," Ignitus chuckled softly. "I believe it is the effect of this environment. When the silence is this profound, you instinctually strive to keep from disturbing it, I think."

Nexus grunted again. "Well, careful. I'm trained to destroy anything that sneaks up on me. After so many years, it's not an easy thing to switch off."

Ignitus nodded, his expression still calm. "I am aware."

_Of course you are_, Nexus thought dryly.

"I must say that I'm surprised by your dedication, though," the pale grey and blue dragon continued, glancing about the training chamber in which the two of them were standing. "I have never seen anyone train as often and as intensely as you do, not even Terrador when he was younger. It is as if it is the only reason you exist."

"That and destroying the world," Nexus replied evenly, his expression level and impassive as he held the other dragon's gaze.

"Perhaps once," Ignitus said just as evenly. "But is that what you still believe?"

Nexus didn't reply, his brow creasing in a mild frown as he stared hard into the former Guardian's gentle eyes that twinkled with a hint of amusement. Nexus thought that perhaps the old dragon derived too much enjoyment out of playing these little word games, but he figured that his occupation might have that sort of effect; being all-knowing could easily lead to smugness.

Just at that moment he noticed a flash of colour that was unusual in his present setting, and his eyes shifted to the open-topped satchels the Chronicler almost always carried across his back. As usual these were filled to the brim with books, but it was the colour of these books that caught Nexus by surprise. At first he thought his eyes were misleading him, but when he looked closer he realized that there was no mistake.

The books were all varying shades of purple.

"Where did those come from?" he asked, his mask of indifference wavering as he gazed up at Ignitus with a brow raised curiously.

The Chronicler's smile spread wider, a gleam of excitement hidden in his eyes.

"These are actually the reason I came looking for you," he said. "It would appear that your presence on this island has had an unforeseen side-effect."

Nexus frowned again in confusion, scrutinizing the elder. "What do you mean?"

"It seems to me as though your arrival here has triggered some ancient powers that had previously gone undetected by me when I took on this duty," Ignitus explained. "Shortly after I brought you here, I noticed a strange shift in the balance of magical energies on the island. At first I dismissed it, but then just the other day I felt something break. It was an old spell, woven well over a thousand years ago from what I can surmise. When it failed, a hidden alcove behind the library was revealed. In it I found these books. Yours was among them, which puzzles me, for I would have imagined that it would be out on the shelves with Spyro's since he is your brother."

Nexus studied Ignitus for a short moment, perplexed and mildly suspicious. His gaze shifted again to the books, and sure enough he saw one that bore a colouring very similar to his own, the covers a medium violet with streaks of bronze across them.

"Weird," he muttered.

Ignitus nodded. "Indeed. Along with your book there were also many others that I could not identify. However, the most unusual thing about them was that they were all blank."

Nexus blinked in surprise. He fixed the larger dragon with a confused look, tilting his head to the side.

"Blank? Why?"

"I can't explain it," Ignitus said, shaking his head. "It seems almost as if their contents were erased. That, combined with the way these books were hidden away, makes me wonder if they were something that the previous Chronicler wished to be forgotten."

"So you think the last Chronicler knew about these books?"

Ignitus nodded again. "He must have. He's the only one that could have hidden your book in that alcove. A dragon's book is only created when their egg is laid, after all."

Nexus fell silent at those words, his gaze drifting away and a hesitant frown creasing his features. Ignitus seemed to notice the younger dragon's odd reaction, but before he could comment on it Nexus shook his head and spoke again.

"So if the last Chronicler knew about these books, why did he tell Spyro that Malefor was the first purple dragon when he had proof that there were more before him?"

Ignitus sighed and shook his head slowly, a difficult-to-read expression on his aged face. It was at that moment that Nexus spotted something in his eyes; a sort of tension, or unease. He realized that this development concerned Ignitus as much as it intrigued him, and this set Nexus on edge. Since arriving at the White Isle he had never seen Ignitus looking anything other than calm and assured, completely in control.

"Again, I do not have the answer to that question, young dragon," the former fire dragon said finally. "This whole situation has me scratching my head. However, perhaps with your help we might be able to uncover some answers. What do you think?"

The young purple dragon was silent for a moment, considering Ignitus's words. Though book work didn't hold much of an appeal for him, he had to admit that his curiosity had been peaked by these revelations. Because of this it didn't take him long to reach a decision.

"Okay," he said. "I'll do what I can."

A pleased smile appeared on Ignitus's muzzle, and he turned to the side and motioned with his head through the open doorway of the training room. Nexus rose to his feet and began padding from the room at a leisurely pace, feeling no rush to arrive at their destination. Once he had passed Ignitus turned and fell into step beside him, his pace just as relaxed.

Nothing was said between them as they walked for some time, the quiet slapping of the pads of their paws against the stone floor being the only sound within the aged passages and corridors. A number of minutes later, however, Nexus glanced to his left and his eyes fell upon a particular book in one of Ignitus's satchels, with a royal purple cover and golden edging.

"How's he been?" he asked the Chronicler, looking up at him without changing his pace.

He didn't have to say a name. He never did. There was only one dragon he ever asked about. A soft smile pulled at the edges of Ignitus's mouth.

"Your brother is well," he replied. "These past months have been good to him, I am happy to say. That young dragon has been through more trials than anyone his age should ever have to face, and he deserves the respite more than anyone."

"Wait," Nexus said suddenly, coming to a halt in the middle of the corridor and fixing Ignitus with a strange look. "Months?"

"Yes," Ignitus replied slowly, a brow raised inquisitively as he also drew to a halt, looking back at the purple dragon.

Nexus frowned, his red-tinged eyes dropping to the ground just ahead of his paws, brow furrowed in confusion. Distantly, he muttered, "Has it been that long?"

For several seconds he remained locked in that posture, his mind struggling to grasp this news. Just a moment later, though, he heard Ignitus chuckle and cast an accusing glare up at him.

"I understand your confusion, young dragon, but it is simple enough to understand. You see the passing of time means little on this island. While the world beyond ages, shifts and transforms, this place remains constant, isolated from everything else. Even day and night are indistinguishable. It is not surprising, then, that you lost track of just how long had actually passed."

"Yeah, but..." Nexus said falteringly, still grappling with what he was hearing. "It can't really have been that long, can it? It's only felt like three or four weeks at the most."

"Ah, you must be referring to how many times you have slept to measure passing days, no doubt," Ignitus nodded, his tone and expression still level and patient. "You are making the assumption, then, that you have been sleeping consistently each night that passes."

Nexus's eyes narrowed suspiciously, a feeling of irritation growing inside of him. While he had come to respect Ignitus during his time on the island and was grateful for the shelter the Chronicler had granted him, he didn't like being toyed with.

"As I said, time's passing holds no power here. While at first your natural sleep cycle matched what it had been before, gradually that cycle began to slow with you spending more time awake between rests, and your time spent sleeping decreasing. I believe that the last time you slept was almost six days ago now."

Nexus faltered, his eyes widening in surprise before once again turning into a suspicious glare.

"That's impossible," he growled. "I would know if that was true. I don't even feel tired at all."

"Nor should you," Ignitus said nonchalantly. "Just as I'm sure you do not feel hungry, but tell me, when was the last time you ate?"

Nexus opened his mouth to answer, snorting at how ridiculous the question was, but as soon as his jaws parted he froze as realization suddenly dawned on him.

"You haven't eaten at all since I brought you here, have you?" Ignitus asked him, an amused glint in his eyes and a knowing grin on his muzzle.

It took Nexus a long moment to come to terms with the elder's words, but he realized with a feeling of shock and confusion that it was true. He _hadn't_ eaten even a morsel since his arrival.

"But...how is that possible?" he asked, looking back at Ignitus in bewilderment and even a touch of unease.

"You shouldn't be alarmed, Nexus," Ignitus told him reassuringly. "You see, the isle's magic sustains any who dwell here. I didn't realize this fact myself until a time after beginning my duties here, actually, but rest assured it is the truth. You need not worry about hunting, or drinking, or even sleeping for that matter. I expect it is only by habit that you have done so while you were here, but your body didn't need it."

Even despite the ring of truth in the other dragon's words, Nexus still couldn't quite bring himself to believe what he was being told. However the evidence was right there in his own daily life to see. He hadn't felt even the slightest need of food or water since he had arrived and recovered from his injuries sustained in the battle against Ragnor's projection. At length he looked up and met Ignitus's patient gaze once again.

"Well...okay," he relented slowly, deciding he had no reason not to believe the ex-Guardian even though it was still a difficult thing to wrap his mind around. He resumed walking, Ignitus matching his pace beside him. Then his curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "Do you still sleep?"

Ignitus chuckled, amused by the query.

"From time to time. While the island's magic may sustain the body, the mind does still grow weary on occasion."

Nexus merely grunted, the Chronicler's words making sense to him. For another couple of minutes the two dragons continued down the temple's corridors, making various turns into adjoining passages along the way. They passed the massive library with its glowing hourglass in the centre and continued on, Nexus simply following Ignitus to his unknown destination.

As they walked he found his thoughts drifting back to Spyro, wondering what he was doing in that moment. But just then a new thought sprung up in his mind and caused him to hesitate mid-step before catching up to Ignitus once again. He glanced up at the older dragon uncertainly, then decided to speak.

"Hey, Ignitus?" he said. "There's a question that's been on my mind for a while now."

"Then ask away, young one," Ignitus replied without shifting his gaze, "and I will do my best to provide the answer you seek."

Nexus paused as he ducked under a thick, heavy tome that was hovering slowly down the hallway in the opposite direction that the two dragons were travelling—a not-uncommon sight within the mysterious temple's ancient walls. Then, once he had collected his thoughts, he voiced his query.

"Why didn't you help him?"

Ignitus faltered in his stride, a startled look flashing briefly through his eyes, and he gazed down at his purple companion with a surprised expression. Then, slowly, his eyes slid closed as if from weariness, and he gave a long sigh.

"Ah, yes," he said, his voice quiet. "Why I allowed him to suffer."

He was silent for a long while, apparently collecting himself, a strained look on his features. It seemed as though the topic was a difficult one for the old dragon—and understandably so—but Nexus wanted an answer and wasn't going to back down until he got one. Finally, with another sigh, Ignitus began his explanation.

"Well, young dragon, let me first say that I wanted to intervene," he said, a tone of sadness in his weathered voice. "Oh, how I wanted to. It was a tremendously difficult thing, to witness what was happening to him and be forced to sit idly by and let his torment continue. But there is something that you must understand about my position."

He paused again for a few seconds, his expression tense and his eyes downcast almost shamefully as he attempted to organize the words to use in his explanation. Then, after a deep, steadying breath, he looked up and met Nexus's gaze.

"You know that as Chronicler it is my duty to watch and listen to the happenings of the world of dragons and ensure that everything is recorded in the Books of Time," he told his purple companion. "However, while this means that I see all that occurs and know of the struggles and hardships that beset those who do not deserve to face them, it does not mean that I have the right to take action to prevent such hardships. I could, but to do so would be to interfere with the ways of fate, and I might very well end up doing more harm than good, no matter my intentions."

"But the old Chronicler interfered in Spyro's case during the Night of Eternal Darkness," Nexus pointed out. "He helped Spyro regain his elements, and pointed out his path for him. Or, at least, he tried to."

"Indeed he did. However, that was a special case. You see, Malefor's return to power signified the doom of this world. The lives of everyone depended on someone being there to stand against him. On top of that, the role of Chronicler is somewhat meaningless if there is no world of dragons to watch over. So, the Chronicler did what he felt was required of him to ensure the continuation of our kind, and if I am ever faced with such a situation I do not doubt that I would do the same. However, in most instances I must refrain from meddling in fate's devices, no matter how much I may wish to do so. Sometimes, though it is difficult, I must let events take their preset course, as was the case with Spyro."

His expression had once again grown pinched, and Nexus suspected that he was thinking back on those moments when he must have wanted nothing more than to assist the young dragon he had mentored, to at least offer him some kind of comfort in those times when things were at their bleakest. For a moment Nexus wondered how it would have felt, having the power to assist someone he cared about but knowing that he couldn't. For just a second the purple dragon felt a swell of sympathy, but such sentiments weren't things he was conditioned to feel, and so it was short-lived.

"At any rate, things worked out for the better," Ignitus spoke up suddenly, shaking himself from his brooding. "Spyro is well, and he now has an ally for when the time comes that he has need of one."

Nexus said nothing in reply, simply considering what he had heard. He didn't have long to think on it, however, because just then Ignitus turned to his left toward an open doorway that had just come up on that side of the corridor, signalling the end of their conversation. Nexus followed him closely, attempting to see what lay within this new room but unable to in the gloom he found beyond the threshold. His troubles were short lived though, because only a second later the room became bathed in the warm glow of multiple candles scattered about the chamber, which seemed to light of their own accord.

When he looked around, Nexus found himself standing in what looked to be some sort of private study. A small collection of books sat on a row of shelves against one wall, bearing an assortment of colours from each of the elements. A broad, worn wooden table occupied most of the rest of the room, its surface covered in patches of old candle wax, and an assortment of tattered old pieces of parchment, quills and empty ink pots were arrayed upon it. What truly caught Nexus's gaze, however, was the line of purple books sitting upon the table. Some sat open to various pages while others were shut tightly, but the most striking thing about them was simply the number of them present.

_It's so strange, seeing them all lined up like that,_ he thought distantly.

He was silent for a long moment after that, lost in his own contemplation, but then finally he looked over to Ignitus again.

"What is this?" he asked.

"This is simply a place where I come when I wish to study a dragon's book in greater detail," Ignitus replied. As he spoke he made a flourishing motion with his paw, and in response the books in his satchels floated into the air and drifted toward the table, arraying themselves in a line parallel to the books already present. "It provides a more private, secure atmosphere where I can feel completely alone with my thoughts and work."

Nexus gave a stiff grunt and nodded absently, his eyes still roaming over the simple yet surprisingly cozy chamber. Slowly he made his way over to the table, his gaze studying the books upon it; his, Spyro's, Malefor's, and many others besides. One thing he noticed that puzzled him, though, was that none of them appeared to belong to Ragnor himself.

_Looks like all the rest are here, though..._

"Now then," Ignitus grunted, removing the straps of his bags from his back and setting them on the ground beside the table. Then he shrugged off his faded blue cloak and the heavy neckpiece that held it in place, hanging them on the near wall so as to be more comfortable, leaving his pale blue-grey scales bare. "Let's get down to business."

"So what is it we're doing?" Nexus asked, moving over and sitting down on the cool stone floor at the Chronicler's side and gazing over the gathered books curiously.

"Here, allow me to show you," Ignitus told him, waving a paw. One of the nearer books rose off of the table's surface and floated toward them through the air, its cover a dull red-violet shade with earthy brown accents. When it stopped in front of them the book opened, flipping a few pages into the thick volume.

"You see, when I first found these books and began moving them here to this room they were entirely blank. Since then, however, some of their pages have very, _very_ slowly begun to fill in, as though whatever magic was employed to wipe their contents is gradually wearing off just like the spell that concealed their existence in the first place."

He gestured with a claw at the open pages before them, and Nexus could indeed see that, at various points across the surface of the thick, ancient parchment, glowing runes were very slowly materializing. It was as though some invisible brush was painstakingly retracing the lost symbols that had once marked those pages, restoring them.

"So, if they're filling back in on their own, what is it you want me to do?"

"My hope is that we can accelerate the restoring process," Ignitus explained. "If you tell me everything you know about the owners of these books, I should be able to use that information to fill in some of the existing blanks and thereby speed along their recompletion. Does that sound like something you can do for me, Nexus?"

"I guess so," Nexus shrugged indifferently. "Not like I have anything else to do right now, anyway." Then he levelled a talon at the elder dragon and fixed him with an intense gaze. "Just as long as this doesn't cut into my training."

Ignitus gazed down at him with a brow ridge arched.

"With the frequency at which you train, that will not leave much time for working on this task," he pointed out.

"I don't care. If you still want me to help my idiot brother stay alive, even after he dragged me into this whole mess, then I need to keep in top form."

Ignitus gave a low grunt, his expression becoming thoughtful. Finally he nodded, relenting.

"I understand. Very well then. You have my word that our work here will not interfere with your training."

Nexus maintained his firm look for a moment longer before also nodding his head, satisfied. "Alright, so where do you want to start?"

"Well, obviously Spyro's and Malefor's books are all filled in already, since no effort was made to hide them," Ignitus replied, at the same time returning the floating book to its place with a wave of his paw. "And yours is filling in quite rapidly on its own, most likely because of your presence here. I suppose then that we'll start with this one. It also appears to be filling in at a faster rate than the rest, though only slightly, and still much, much slower than yours."

He waved a paw at another book on the table, farther away from the pair, and it immediately rose into the air and hovered over to them. When it stopped before them Nexus looked down at the cover, taking in its indigo colouring and the darker, almost blood red hue of its binding. Then his eyes fell upon the lone, crimson marking in the center of the front cover, and he tensed.

"Oh," he said dully, his expression darkening. "Her."

Ignitus's gaze became quizzical when he heard the grim edge that had so suddenly come over the younger dragon's tone. Nexus didn't see this, however, his gaze locked on the book before him. He gave a low, tense sigh.

"Well, for starters, her name is Tyrannica," he began slowly. "And she was one nasty piece of work..."

***.*.***

It had once been said about Munitions Forge that the massive volcano that dominated the landscape could make life there quite dicey.

While the tall, slender indigo dragoness that stood in defiance of the howling wind hadn't been around to hear these words spoken, she arrived at more or less the same conclusion. The only difference was that instead of the island of Munitions Forge, her thoughts were in relation to the Volcanic Wastes of the Dark Realms.

The Volcanic Wastes were a region a number of miles to the north of Ragnor's sheltered underground dwelling, so named for the unusually high amount of volcanic activity that took place in that area in comparison to the surrounding lands. Absolutely nothing lived there, the blackened rocky plateaus and cliffs that formed the landscape absolutely bare. The smell of ash and brimstone was nearly suffocating here, and the sky overhead was constantly choked with thick black clouds lit from underneath by the hellish red glow of boiling lava. The intense thermals created by the surrounding volcanoes stirred up the air into a never-ending windstorm, making flying treacherous at the best of times, and outright suicidal at all others. For good reason most living creatures steered well clear of this place.

Tyrannica wasn't most creatures.

Ignoring the sweltering heat and the vicious wind that propelled dust and chips of stone at near-lethal speeds before it, the purple dragoness stood studying the sheer wall of volcanic rock that rose before her, stretching seemingly endlessly up into the torrential sky. Its surface was riddled with odd, asymmetrical openings that erupted with intense geysers of flame at random intervals. The phenomenon was caused by pockets of natural gasses that were heated to the point of ignition by an active lava flow barely a hundred feet below the surface directly where Tyrannica stood. The result was unpredictable and very deadly.

_It's perfect_, Tyrannica thought with a feeling of twisted satisfaction.

She spent another long moment examining the wall, studying its features. Then, resolved, she strode purposefully over to its base. Once there she paused, focussing her elemental powers on the shards of stone that whipped past in the air around her and drawing them in toward her body. Within only moments she had collected enough for her need, and with a nudge of her powers she hardened the gathered stone into a sort of binding that wrapped around her shoulders and upper torso, weighing her down and, more importantly, pinning her wings tightly against her sides.

Of course with her control of earth she could easily break through the binding at a whim, which simply wouldn't do for what she had in mind. So, with decisive movements, she lifted a forepaw and drove her long, glinting talons into the earth, closing her eyes and focussing deeply.

A deep tremor passed through the ground beneath her, and only a second later the stone around her talons began to crack and shift. A faint violet glow shone forth at the same moment that the first jagged points of dark crystal began to emerge from the earth, growing steadily under the purple dragoness's guidance. A few seconds later she relaxed and opened her eyes, pulling her paw free of the small crystal formation she had created.

She was gifted in the use of the dark gems, Ragnor had once told her. While most purple dragons could create dark crystals using their convexity powers, and with the right training learn to tailor them to various uses—such as draining the elemental magic of other dragons, acting as hidden booby traps or even projecting the words of their creator from one distant point to another—Tyrannica had discovered quickly that she could do things with the crystals that most other purple dragons could only dream of. It was a skill that had served her well in the past, and one that she never hesitated to make use of when it suited her.

She gripped the largest piece of crystal in her forepaw and, with a firm jerk, broke it free from the rest of the formation. Then she held it up in front of her and, after taking a deep, steadying breath, began channelling her elemental magic into it. She didn't stop until her powers were completely drained, though she left her physical stamina untouched. When she was finished the faint glow of the crystal had taken on a much brighter, paler light, revealing the power trapped within. Tyrannica then set the crystal back in place amongst the rest of the formation where she wouldn't lose it.

She focussed her attention on the stone restraint encircling her body and tried to shatter it with her power, but nothing happened. Without her elements her wings were now well and truly trapped. Satisfied, Tyrannica turned her gaze back to the stone wall before her.

Without hesitation she made a mighty leap and dug her talons into the rough surface over twenty feet up the cliff face, gritting her fangs as the weight of the stone around her shoulders tried to drag her back to the earth below. Without pause she heaved herself upward once again, scaling the sheer wall with surprising agility and single-minded determination, feeling her lean muscles straining under the effort.

The climb would have been treacherous already without the added weight of the stone slowing her down, but Tyrannica always felt the need to push herself even further. She was already sixty feet up the cliff and her legs were screaming in protest from the exertion, but she refused to slow down. To make matters even more dangerous, since she had drained her elemental powers she couldn't use her fire element to sense the flaming geysers that erupted all around her in advance. As she climbed past one such geyser opening, a faint rumble in the cliff face was all the warning she got before the jet of flames flared to life, and she only barely managed to avoid being roasted alive.

Higher and higher she climbed, never allowing her reckless pace to waver. She leaped and dodged frantically to keep ahead of the gouts of flame exploding on all sides, all the while fully aware that if her grip failed now she would plummet to her death with nothing to save her.

She found it exhilarating beyond compare.

The final stretch was the most challenging of all. Her limbs burned fiercely from the strain of the climb, and now her way forward was blocked by the densest cluster of geysers she had encountered yet. They erupted with such frequency that there seemed to be no way through, but proceeding was the only option left to her. Dangling over two hundred feet above the ground, she knew that she didn't have the stamina to climb all the way back down. Besides, she had absolute confidence in her ability to succeed, and giving up was something she refused to do.

_Never again._

A surge of fearsome determination exploded through her being, and with a loud snarl she heaved her body upward just as the screen of flaming geysers abated momentarily. As soon as her talons gripped the stone again she spun sharply to the right, then immediately pushed off sharply in the opposite direction at the exact instant that the cliff face beneath her paws erupted. With startling agility she jumped and twirled up past geyser after geyser, feeling them bathing her scales in their searing heat but never coming close enough to burn her.

The distance she had left to cover decreased to less than a dozen feet. Then it was half a dozen, then only a few inches. Finally, with one last great heave, Tyrannica pulled herself over the lip of the cliff and to safety, gasping for breath and her limbs trembling from the extreme exertion, but with a broad triumphant grin stretching across her muzzle. She caught sight of a thick pillar of stone nearby and padded slowly over to it, slamming her shoulder against it and cracking the stone that restrained her. A powerful jerk of her wings shattered the stone completely, freeing her from the weighty bonds. Once she was again comfortable she sat back on her haunches to catch her breath, surveying the land below her and revelling in her success.

Though most would find her training methods reckless and foolish, she never felt satisfied unless there were very real consequences for failure. It forced her to push herself beyond her limits, strengthening her more than it ever would if she allowed herself the opportunity for second tries.

For several minutes she sat in silence, slowly but steadily feeling her strength returning to her. She breathed slowly and deeply, ignoring the stench of sulfur in the air and allowing her body to relax as much as was possible while being buffeted by the brutal winds. She let her eyes wander over the landscape. All was motionless, save for a couple of narrow lava flows trickling down from the more active volcanoes in sight and the solitary creature lumbering across the desolate badlands in the distance; one of the enormous, hideous monsters that she usually sought out as training opponents, which she had decided to call 'trolls'.

She didn't know what their proper name was, if her master had bothered to give them one in his countless years surviving in this wasteland that served as his prison. As it was, the only name she had ever heard him use for them was 'dinner'.

Just at that moment she suddenly became aware of a strange tug at the back of her consciousness. At first it puzzled her, but only an instant later she realized what she was feeling and straightened up in surprise. Immediately she was on her feet, a feeling of haste taking hold of her, and with a mighty flap of her wings she braved the fierce winds and took to the sky.

She angled down sharply, diving for the dim spec of light that was the crystal she had created only minutes before. Landing heavily beside it, she took up the glowing gem in her paw and reabsorbed the energy she had stored inside of it, feeling a rush of vitality as her elemental powers were restored to her. Then she took off again, shooting through the sky in the direction of the cave.

The flight took her a number of minutes, but eventually she caught sight of the low ridgeline ahead that marked the cavern's location. A moment later her eyes locked on to the dark splotch in the landscape that was the cave opening, and only seconds after that she had touched down within it. Without wasting an instant she strode down through the dim passage, an air of purpose about her movements. When she emerged in Ragnor's subterranean chamber she found the great purple dragon waiting for her.

"Been training again, I see," Ragnor commented in his harsh, rumbling voice as Tyrannica drew to a halt at a respectful distance from him. "I hope you didn't tire yourself out too thoroughly. You are going to need your strength."

Tyrannica faltered, gazing up at the larger purple dragon with a quizzical expression.

"For what?" she asked, a tentative feeling of hope beginning to glimmer deep inside of her. Could he be saying what she had been hoping to hear so desperately?

She didn't have to wonder for long.

"I believe that I may have just reached an epiphany," her master told her, his tone and expression difficult to read but seeming almost excited, which Tyrannica found very strange. "If I am right, it may be possible for me to escape this forsaken pit much sooner than I expected."

Tyrannica was stunned by this news, and she blinked several times in surprise.

"Really? How?"

"The details are not something you need to concern yourself with at the moment," Ragnor grunted, at the same time rising to his feet and turning so that his back was to the smaller dragoness, taking a step toward the wide stone ring in the floor. "What's important to you right now is that the time has come to act. If you believe you are ready, you depart immediately."

Tyrannica once again faltered, a feeling of disbelief claiming her. She wondered if she had heard correctly. Was it true? After five months of agonizing waiting and yearning, was she finally being sent back into the Dragon Realms? Was her chance at redemption finally here?

She shook herself roughly out of her stupor when Ragnor reached the stone ring and turned a stern, impatient gaze in her direction. With quick movements she moved over to his side, excitement growing within her with each step she took.

"So what's the plan?" she asked eagerly.

"I am sending you to the world's core," Ragnor replied, turning his gaze back to the stone ring and lifting a paw towards its edge. "Once you arrive there, the first thing you will do is unseal the Vault."

Tyrannica looked up at her master in surprise again. "The Vault? But Master, I thought that was only to be done once the Great Cleansing had been accomplished, but I won't be able to resurrect the Destroyer for generations yet after Malefor's failure."

"I am aware of that. However, things have changed. There are no more chances after this, and so all measures must be taken to ensure success. You will release the wraiths now to guarantee that there are no more failures."

Tyrannica hesitated, caught off guard by what she was being told, but quickly enough she regained her senses. She gave a firm nod of her head, determination filling her.

"As you wish, Master," she said. "And once I've unsealed the Vault, what do you want me to do then?"

"Establish a foothold," Ragnor answered simply. "Once that's accomplished I will inform you on the rest of the requirements for this plan."

Tyrannica nodded again. Then Ragnor fixed her with an intense stare, a dangerous edge in his fearsome red eyes.

"I trust I do not need to remind you what the stakes are," he rumbled gravely.

"No, Master," Tyrannica replied, shaking her head sharply, her own gaze hardening with resolve. "I won't fail."

Ragnor gave only a low grunt in response, but he seemed satisfied enough. He turned once more to the stone ring and closed his eyes, a look of deep focus crossing his harsh features. Only a second later the centre of the ring flashed with a bright violet light, and slowly a swirling vortex of convexity began to form. A dull roar broke the stillness within the chamber, growing steadily along with the portal's size until it was nearly deafening. As she watched the portal forming, Tyrannica's excitement mounted exponentially until she felt like she might burst from its strength.

_This is it!_

Soon the portal was fully formed, filling the entirety of the great stone ring, and Tyrannica could feel the air within the chamber being sucked into its black depths. It took all of her restraint to keep from leaping through it right then.

"Keep in mind that I am relying on you to be smart in your actions," Ragnor told her severely. "Take care not to tip off our enemies to your actions too soon, or else things will become much more difficult."

"Yes, Master. You will not regret giving me this chance."

"For your own sake, you had best hope that you are right. Now, time is wasting."

Taking her cue, the indigo dragoness squared herself to the swirling portal and gathered herself, forcibly reining in her excitement and adopting an air of hard, focussed determination. Despite her efforts, though, a dark grin still worked its way onto her lips and a glint of eagerness shone in her blood red eyes. Then, in a single fluid motion, she jumped up into the air and, streamlining her body, allowed the portal to swallow her up.

For several seconds the roar of the portal drowned out all else, until a thunderous crash and lurch heralded the dragoness's arrival at her destination. Her paws struck hard, cold crystal, and after steadying herself she raised her head and took in her surroundings.

She found herself standing inside an expansive cavern, a heavy ceiling of stone being all that greeted her gaze when she looked up above her. Illuminating the cavern was a strong purple glow that radiated from the enormous crystal formation beneath her paws: the core of the world.

For a long moment she stood in awe of the scale of it, as well as the power trapped inside it. Deep within her she could just feel the vast, ancient energies seeping from its infinite depths out into the world around her; the source of all life and magic in the realms. She had heard of the core from Ragnor and from ancient legends, but this was her first time actually seeing it and now she found herself momentarily lost for words to describe it.

A stern voice within her consciousness reminded her of the task she was there to complete at that moment, and with a sharp shake of her head Tyrannica brought herself back to the matter at hand. Closing her eyes, she called upon her powers of convexity, extending her perceptions out through her surroundings in a steady, measured fashion. Farther and farther she probed, searching for some sort of trace or signature of her quarry.

It didn't take her long to locate what she was seeking, and when she did she opened her eyes and immediately locked her gaze on the direction in which she'd felt the telltale mark of convexity. Moving quickly, she padded across the rough crystalline surface, gradually circling the core until she caught sight of her destination ahead. Once she reached it she drew to a gradual halt, contemplating her next move.

It appeared to be nothing more than just another formation of crystal jutting up from the rest of the core's surface, reaching only up to about Tyrannica's chest, but the indigo dragoness could easily sense the ancient powers that were trapped within it, and she bore no doubt in her mind that this was what she was looking for. However, now that she had found it she wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. She had never been told how to unseal the Vault, and never had she bothered to ask, assuming that Ragnor would do it himself once he had been liberated from the Dark Realms. But Ragnor wasn't there, leaving her alone to try and decipher how to proceed.

For several long moments she stood there, puzzling over this conundrum, but she realized that precious time was wasting. Deciding to trust her instincts, she hesitantly reached forward with a single paw and rested it against the crystalline structure. At first nothing happened, but then for a reason she couldn't quite explain she got the distinct impression that she should channel her convexity power into the crystal. Without hesitation she obeyed the strange compulsion, and almost immediately she was rewarded when a deep tremor passed through the entire formation. Surprised, but with a growing feeling of anticipation, Tyrannica took a number of steps backward, watching with bated breath.

A low rumbling grew in the crystal beneath her, and with almost agonizing slowness the faceted structure seemed to come alive, the crystal warping and growing, rising up from the core's surface until it stood over twice as high as Tyrannica did. Then, with a sharp _CRACK_, a broad vertical seam opened in the front face of the structure, spreading wide to reveal absolute blackness on the other side.

Like thick, heavy smoke, a twisting haze of inky shadow slowly spilled out from the gap in the crystal, flowing down to the core's surface like some sort of dark waterfall before spreading outward, bathing the area surrounding the purple dragoness in darkness, though the shadow never came closer than roughly a dozen metres from her. Then the shadows came alive.

One by one, like spectres materializing out of the night, the forms of some sort of twisted, bipedal creature rose out of the black fog and opened empty white eyes that glowed with piercing coldness. They looked distinctly less than living, their emaciated frames bearing only a hard blackened shell for flesh, various spikes and spines protruding almost at random from their bodies and black shadow constantly swirling around them. First there was one, then a dozen, then hundreds, then thousands of the ghostly figures, forming a wide ring encircling the dragoness. All of them stood motionlessly, facing the one who had released them with blank stares.

For almost a full minute a heavy stillness reigned, the silence so thick it was almost palpable. Then, with an air of undisputable authority about her bearing, Tyrannica raised herself up and spread her broad wings wide to call for the attention of the shadowy creatures—though she already had it, unwaveringly.

"Wraiths, hear me," she commanded imperiously. "The time has come for your services. For countless millennia you have waited dormant here, but now your master calls you to action. By Ragnor's authority, you are to obey me now."

She studied the almost insubstantial figures surrounding her with an intense gaze, searching for some sort of reaction amongst them, but their expressions betrayed no emotion. Then, soundlessly, one of the wraiths in front of her took a step forward. In an eerie, haunting voice, it spoke.

"_We will heed our master's calling."_

A broad, feral grin appeared at the edges of Tyrannica's muzzle, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.

"Excellent. Then let's get started."

She swept her gaze across the ranks of shadowy figures surrounding her, addressing them all once more.

"Our first task is to travel to the surface and locate a suitable place to establish a stronghold. We need to move quickly, and we need to take care to keep our movements hidden. Is that understood?"

The wraiths nodded their heads once slowly. Then, with barely a sound, the army of ghostly figures dissolved once more into shadow, becoming little more than a huge cloud of blackness. This cloud closed in around Tyrannica before fastening onto her, clinging to her scales and gradually spreading across her entire body. Though surprised at first, she quickly realized what they were doing and didn't resist. Once she was entirely covered she let herself be pulled into the shadows as well, her body vanishing into darkness.

Like smoke sucked through a crack, the cloud of shadow rose off of the crystal ground and up toward the stony ceiling. Then, once it reached the heavy barrier blocking its way it spread and split, working its way into any natural gaps and crevices it could locate. Before long it had vanished into the earth entirely, making its way steadily upward while leaving not a trace of its passing behind. A minute later the cloud emerged at the surface, gathering together atop a low ridge overlooking a lush forested valley, bathed in the still light of the twin moons high overhead.

Tyrannica emerged from within the cloud of shadow feeling none the worse for wear from the trip, and with steady strides she advanced until she was standing perched at the very lip of the ridgeline, looking out over the sleeping world. She inhaled long and deeply, taking in the fresh, intoxicating scent of life and vitality, feeling the gentle breeze brushing past her scales with a soft, cool touch, in such striking contrast to the Dark Realms she had left behind that it was almost too much to believe. The soft rustle of wind in the trees carried up to her, and in the sky overhead a few small wisps of cloud lazily drifted past. It was all so incredibly peaceful, so _alive_, just as she remembered it from so very long ago.

A venomous smile stretched across her features, a dangerous sort of elation swelling in her chest and filling her entire being with energy. After endless years of waiting, hoping desperately for this day to come, it was finally here. Her retribution was at hand, and nothing was going to prevent her from taking it. Soon enough the world of dragons would know her wrath, and despair would reign across the lands once again.

Her sinister smile grew wider, and a low, dangerous chuckle escaped her jaws.

She was back_._

* * *

**Oooh, I smell a conspiracy! What could these odd developments mean...?  
**

**You'll just have to wait and find out! X)  
**

**Well, I enjoyed writing this one. Nexus is just as fun to write as I remember him, and I have to say that Tyrannica is shaping up to be quite an enjoyable character as well. :) I expect I'm going to have fun writing future scenes with her. Think the name fits?  
**

**Anyway, I hope you liked it, and I hope it's enough to tide you over for a bit. University has now officially started, so things are liable to slow down from here on out. I'll try my best to keep pumping out chapters as quickly as possible, but we'll just have to see how it goes. Wish me luck. :)  
**

**Until next time...  
**


	4. Chapter 4: Friendly Encounters

**Surprise everybody! I'm back! XD**

**Wow, this took a while, didn't it? What was it, a month? A MONTH since I last updated. I. Feel. Ashamed. :'(  
**

**Well, what can I say, other than 'Freaking University homework!'. Projects, projects, projects. Sure keeping me busy. *groans*  
**

**BUT, enough of that. The point is, I have another chapter ready at last! Originally chapter 4 was a lot longer than this, but when I looked at the word count and saw the number '19,800', I thought, "For the fourth chapter of a story? Forget that!" So, after a great deal of struggling, I found a spot that worked to split it in half, and now it's a much more reasonable number. X)  
**

**And I want to just say ahead of time, thanks to everyone for your patience. I didn't receive even a single [nag] WHEN ARE YOU UPDATING?! [/nag] message during the month that went by, so thank you all for bearing with me and my school-burdened schedule. I really appreciate it. :)  
**

**So, enough chat. Go on and read, and I hope you enjoy!  
**

* * *

_Chapter 4: Friendly Encounters_

The sun had barely risen over Warfang's eastern rooftops an hour ago, but already the streets below were filled with citizens and visitors alike looking to get an early start on the day's festivities. It was the fifth day of celebrations, and as it had consistently been all week long the sky was clear and the day was warm and bright. The city was taking full advantage of this, with dozens of outdoor events and open-air banquets and concerts already having been held during the festival's opening days, and more planned for this day as well.

As she sat upon the edge of her balcony outside her chambers overlooking the activity in the city, Cynder couldn't help but smile. For one of those rare moments in her life she felt truly happy and at peace. Things were finally looking up, she thought. The world was free, the lands were safe, and the dragon race was rebounding astonishingly well after their brush with annihilation. In spite of Malefor's efforts to destroy them—and hers as well—the dragons were thriving, with several new hidden colonies emerging from isolation over the past number of months and allowing their population to swell, expanding to repopulate the cities and villages that had been abandoned during the recent height of the war. The future was bright for the first time in generations, and so too was the outlook of nearly everyone in the city.

For several minutes longer Cynder remained perched on her balcony, content to simply watch the city from her isolated vantage point for the time being. While over the past few days she had received surprisingly tolerant treatment from many of the city's present inhabitants, there were still those inevitable confrontations where she would be recognized by someone to whom she had dealt particular harm in the past. Such encounters stung her deeply, flaunting her past crimes in her face and filling her with shame and remorse when she was reminded of the pain she had caused.

As she had done ever since returning to Warfang after defeating Malefor she strove to hold her head high regardless, but often times she found it was simply easier to keep at a distance, allowing the city's many visitors to enjoy the festival without either them or her having to be reminded of darker days. Usually it was only in Spyro's company that she would openly wander the city now, his warm assuring presence lending her confidence and somehow helping to ward off the worst altercations that would otherwise occur.

_Not that I _rely_ on him to go out in public_, Cynder thought with a small inward chuckle. _It's just so much more enjoyable when he's there_.

She smiled again at the thought of her purple companion, glad in the knowledge that she could always count on his support and immeasurably grateful that, even after the hardships and mistakes that had come between them, he hadn't hesitated to do all he could to slowly rebuild what had been broken. Even after what she had done to him, he wanted her in his life. Sometimes she couldn't believe the strength of his heart, but she was incredibly thankful for it nonetheless.

_Yes, things are definitely looking up._

For several minutes more the dragoness simply basked in the wonderful atmosphere of optimism all around her, breathing the fresh morning air in deeply. But then, suddenly, she was jolted out of her musings by an unexpected call from the street below.

"Good morning to you, young dragoness!" a familiar voice called up to her warmly, and immediately Cynder whipped her head around to the source to see tall, golden-furred cheetah wearing a red travelling cloak gazing back at her with a smile on his face.

"Hunter!" Cynder exclaimed delightedly, and without hesitating she jumped over the railing of her balcony and glided down into the street. "What a surprise! It's so good to see you."

"And you too, my friend," Hunter told her warmly. "You appear to be well."

Cynder nodded, smiling. "I am, thank you. I've been doing great ever since things got calmed down after the Well of Souls. And how about you? Are things well in Avalar?"

"They are. The peace has been good to us in the valley."

Cynder felt her smile growing, glad to hear that everything was well since the last time she had seen her friend. It had been a couple of months now since she and Spyro had seen their cheetah companion, when they had managed to find a spare moment to visit the Valley of Avalar briefly. She had actually been hoping that they might see him again during the festival, although she was a bit surprised by the suddenness of his appearance now.

"So what are you doing here?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "I didn't know you were coming for the festival."

Hunter chuckled. "I wouldn't have missed it. There were just some matters to attend to before it was possible to travel to the city."

"Like what?"

"Official matters," a gruff voice cut in, and Cynder whipped her head around to see a darker-furred cheetah wearing a mild scowl on his features approaching the pair, accompanied by another cheetah beside him. "Ones that do not need to be bandied about to just anyone."

Cynder bristled slightly at the cheetah's tone of contempt, but nonetheless she composed herself quickly, schooling her features into a neutral expression.

"Chief Prowlus," she said, inclining her head respectfully in greeting. Then she turned her gaze toward the other cheetah newcomer and started when she recognized him. "Meadow?"

"Hello, Cynder," the orange-furred cheetah replied with a warm smile. "It is nice to see you again. It's been a while."

"It's nice to see you too," Cynder answered, pleasantly surprised by this development. She hadn't seen the cheetah since she and Spyro had helped him escape from grublin captivity in Avalar, seemingly so long ago. "How's the leg?"

Meadow let out a quick laugh and replied, "It has healed well, thank you. And allow me to once again express my gratitude to you and Spyro for your help on that day. I would hate to think of where I'd be if you two hadn't come along."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad we could help."

Meadow inclined his head, still smiling. "That is very kind."

Just at that moment Prowlus let out a muffled grumble, and Cynder turned an inquisitive frown toward him to see that the cheetah chief was standing with his arms crossed and a mild scowl on his features.

"Well, I suppose I'll leave you all to your pleasantries, since you all seem so eager to catch up," he sighed. "Meadow, Hunter, I expect to see you both at the Temple no later than midday. If I have to go into the start of that conference on my own, you will not enjoy the words I'll have for you afterwards. You might as well enjoy yourselves for now, though. Perhaps you can try and find out where the others have all run off to."

"Don't worry, Chief Prowlus," Hunter replied with a respectful bob of his head. "We'll be certain to reach the Temple with plenty of time to spare."

The only response Prowlus deigned to give was a stiff grunt, but he seemed satisfied nonetheless and departed with no further comment, his cloak billowing behind him as he disappeared down the street at a purposeful stride. When he had gone Cynder turned her attention back to the other two cheetahs.

"So, I'm still waiting to hear an explanation," she told them with a grin. "What's brought you all here? It sounds like more than just visiting for the festival to me."

Hunter and Meadow both chuckled quietly.

"As perceptive as always," Hunter said. "While the festival itself is indeed a large part of the reason, there are also more diplomatic matters at play."

Cynder cocked her head to the side curiously. "What do you mean?"

"With so many races gathered in the city for the festival, it is an ideal moment to entertain discussions about renewing old alliances and treaties between the Greater Races that broke down during the last several generations of conflict," Meadow explained. "The Guardians hope to restore the network of support that existed between our races in the days before the conflicts with the ape armies began to heat up."

Cynder blinked a couple of times, surprised by this news and wondering for a moment why she hadn't heard about these plans before that moment. She would have thought that Spyro would have been told at least, or that Sirius would have mentioned it since he must have been involved. But then she shook her head, clearing it.

"So, is that why Prowlus wants you at the Temple later?" she asked. "You're helping with the talks?"

"That is correct," Hunter nodded. "It is common practice for a representative of a race to have some form of aides with them for support. As one of our tribe's more experienced warriors I have held Chief Prowlus's trust in such matters for a number of years now, although admittedly that trust wavered significantly during the three years that I devoted my efforts to the search for you and Spyro. During that time, it was Meadow who gained our chief's favour and confidence."

"Really?" Cynder said, turning to Meadow with interest.

The orange cheetah nodded. "Yes. While I have always spent most of my time practicing the arts of healing and medicine, from time to time I have also offered my services to Prowlus as an ambassador of sorts."

"Huh," Cynder grunted, intrigued by these facts about the cheetah that she had known so little about before. "I had no idea."

"Oh, yes," Hunter nodded. "Meadow was always very dependable when it came to maintaining level relations with the other races. Especially in the talks with the dragons."

Meadow snorted with amusement. "Yes, our chief's favourite species."

Cynder allowed a wry grin to appear at the corner of her mouth as the two cheetahs exchanged knowing looks and chuckled. Then her expression lightened into a brighter smile again.

"Well, it's really great to see you both again," she told them happily. "What are you thinking of doing for the rest of the morning?"

Both cheetahs exchanged thoughtful looks, appearing undecided. Then Meadow gave a small shrug.

"Take in the sights, I suppose?" he said, and Hunter gave a quick nod of agreement. "There haven't been any festivals like this here in Warfang in many years. I was just a cub the last time I saw one. I'm eager to refresh my memory."

"As am I," Hunter agreed.

"Okay," Cynder said, nodding. "Well, if you two don't mind waiting for a bit, I can get Spyro and we can all go out into the city together. I'm sure he would really like to see you both again too."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Hunter smiled, and Meadow agreed readily. "We'll wait for you here by the front entrance."

"Alright. I'll just be a minute."

"Take your time," Meadow told her. Then together he and Hunter strode over to the wall of the residence building close to the main doorway and leaned their backs against the cool stone, Hunter crossing his arms across his chest and Meadow taking up his carved wooden staff in his paws and lazily twirling it about, examining it.

Once the two cheetahs were settled Cynder turned around toward the residence and leapt nimbly into the air, beating her wings rapidly to climb back up to her balcony above her. Once she reached it she easily lit upon the decorative railing before bounding through her chambers and out into the corridor beyond it. She hardly paused to shut the door to her room before turning to her left and padding over to Spyro's doorway, assuming that the purple dragon was still in his room since she hadn't heard him saying that he had any plans to be anywhere that morning. Stopping in front of the polished wooden door, she lifted a forepaw and knocked twice.

"Spyro?" she called. "You in there?"

She waited in silence for several seconds, but when no reply came she gave a small frown of confusion. Then, deciding on a different tactic, she reached up and slowly eased the door open, poking her head into the purple dragon's chambers.

"Spyro?"

A muffled grumbling sound reached her from the right, and curiously Cynder edged into the spacious chambers and silently shut the door behind her. Then she turned her gaze up toward the small, recessed sleeping chamber up the steps to her right and saw that the drapes were open, letting a small amount of sunlight filter into the bed chamber. Another faint groan came from within, and with a smirk beginning to form on her lips the black dragoness started creeping up the steps without making a sound.

When she reached the top of the steps she wasn't surprised by what she found there. A faint snore rose to her ears, coming from the purple dragon lying stretched out on top of his luxurious bed of cushions. The bedding was in total disarray, bunched up haphazardly all over the padded nest. Spyro, meanwhile, was lying flat on his stomach with his head shoved underneath the corner of one of the largest pillows. His body was so utterly limp and relaxed that he looked like scarcely more than a giant rag doll. The only sign that he was alive was the sluggish rising and falling of his flanks and the soft grumbling that he was emitting.

Cynder couldn't help but chuckle at the sight before her, shaking her head with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. For several moments she just stood there, watching the purple dragon fondly and finding herself amazed by how completely lethargic he appeared.

_Just unbelievable, _she snorted inwardly. _Really, how anyone can be this lazy is beyond me._

Part of her felt like she should just leave her companion be in that moment instead of waking him. After all, the last several weeks had been very demanding for him, especially the days since the start of the festival. However, a much larger part of her couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. Besides, Hunter and Meadow were waiting, which made whatever she did next justified.

Moving slowly and silently, like a predator closing in for the kill, Cynder began circling the prone purple dragon so that she was soon crouching a couple of feet from his right side. Then she dropped into a low stance, her muscles tensing in preparation to pounce. Her tail swished back and forth eagerly behind her, and a wicked grin settled over her features. She could already see his startled reaction in her mind, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

Just then, however, to her great disappointment it seemed that Spyro somehow sensed her presence, for mere instants before she could lunge he suddenly stirred. A deep groan escaped him and he began to shift on his bed, pulling his head out from under the pillow. Slowly his eyes cracked open, though they were still bleary and unfocussed.

"Aww," Cynder moaned, straightening reluctantly. "So close."

In his sleep-addled state it took Spyro a moment to register her voice, but finally he seemed to clue in to her presence and turned a mildly dazed look in her direction, squinting as he tried to force his eyes to adjust to the light.

"Cynder?" he slurred out with some effort, obviously not entirely awake yet. "What...why are you in here?"

"Good morning to you too, sleepyhead," Cynder said teasingly, finding it greatly amusing to see him in such an incoherent condition.

Spyro uttered another weary grunt and rubbed at his eyes with a heavy forepaw. Then he turned his head to look out toward the main chamber of his rooms, trying to judge the light flowing into them from the open balcony.

"What time is it?"

"An hour past dawn."

Cynder couldn't keep from giggling at the sour face he made at those words. With a heavy groan he allowed his head to sag back down into the cushions, face first.

"I don't have to be awake until they make me speak at that ceremony to announce the winners of the stone carving competition after lunch," he mumbled, his voice only barely intelligible past the bedding covering his snout. "I'm not here until then."

"Oh, no you don't," Cynder laughed, moving closer to the edge of his bed and gazing down at him with a wry smirk. "I didn't come in here only to leave alone. One way or another you're leaving this room. Now up you get."

"But I'm exhausted," the purple dragon complained.

"Come on!" Cynder pressed him. "You're missing the whole festival! How can you just sleep this all away? Come out with me."

"Maybe Faren's still in her room. Go get her."

"Honestly, Spyro, what is it with you and mornings? It's just sad; the great purple dragon, whining like a little hatchling. Is that really how this is going to be?"

"Waah."

Cynder heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes with exasperation, though a grin still tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Spyro," she said, her tone becoming stern despite the glint of humour in her eyes. "Are you sure you want to push me right now? I have my methods to make you get up, you know."

"Like what?" Spyro grunted, sounding unconvinced.

An ominous grin made its way across Cynder's features, and with slow, smooth steps she moved around the circular nest of cushions until she was standing facing the other dragon straight on.

"Do you _really_ want to find out?"

Spyro shifted his head to expose one of his eyes, which he opened and turned up toward her, looking puzzled. When she saw that she had his attention, Cynder's grin grew wider and she held out a forepaw, pad up. A small, flickering orb of crimson energy appeared above it, seeming to float in place of its own accord. Spyro's head jerked up, a look of surprise and apprehension crossing his expression.

"Now, do you still want to be difficult?" Cynder inquired tauntingly.

She began leaning closer, edging the ball of fear energy toward him. As it approached him Spyro glanced rapidly between it and Cynder, doubt and anxiety showing in his eyes.

"You wouldn't."

Cynder's devilish smile expanded. "You're testing the wrong dragoness, hero."

The look of worry grew in Spyro's expression as Cynder continued to inch the ball of her fear element closer to him, aiming it toward his chest. Even so the purple dragon still refused to budge, as though clinging on to the doubt that his black-scaled companion would actually go through with her threat. Cynder smirked evilly at this mistake, and the crimson sphere drew within only inches of his chest scales.

"Okay, Cynder, that's enough," Spyro said, tension clear in his voice. "Just hold on a sec—AAGH!"

His protest was cut short by a sharp cry of shock as Cynder suddenly jerked her paw forward and caused the ball of fear to brush against his chest. In a flash he had sprung to his feet, eyes flying wide open as the brief contact with her fear element sent a frightful jolt through his being. Cynder immediately burst out laughing.

"Cynder!" Spyro gasped, clutching at his chest with a forepaw as he tried to regain control of his heartbeat, his breath coming in heavy gulps. "That's not funny!"

"Actually, I thought it was hilarious," Cynder said, still laughing heartily. "Come on, it was only a joke. I barely put any power into it at all. You probably did most of the scaring yourself."

Spyro's expression darkened, and once his breathing and heartbeat had regulated he lowered his forepaw and glowered at the black dragoness.

"That was too far," he told her.

"You're just upset because I got you good," Cynder retorted, unfazed by his harsh glare. "Come on, admit it. Maybe next time you'll think twice about not believing what I say, hmm?"

Spyro didn't answer for a moment, his hard gaze unwavering. Clearly he was unhappy about what she had just done, but the dragoness was enjoying his reaction too much to truly care. However, just then a devious glint suddenly appeared within his bright purple eyes and the corner of his mouth turned up in a dark grin.

"Or maybe I'll just get even."

"What?" Cynder said, faltering at the unexpected change in his tone.

She didn't get a chance to wonder what he was planning, because all of a sudden he lunged forward and Cynder let out a cry of surprise when he grabbed hold of her around her midsection with a foreleg and heaved her up into the air. Her world spun crazily as a feeling of falling through space swept over her. Then she let out a grunt when she landed flat on her back in the middle of his padded bed, the purple dragon standing by her side with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Spyro!" she exclaimed. "What are you..."

She trailed off when she saw the forepaw he was holding up, which he had encased in a thick coating of ice. Her eyes widened and a feeling of realization and dread crashed over her.

"Oh, no," she gasped. "Spyro, don't you dare!"

"Sorry," he smirked, eyes glinting. "You asked for it."

Without giving Cynder the chance to protest any further, the purple dragon pinned her down with his free forepaw before unceremoniously shoving the huge chunk of ice against the most sensitive part of her flank, just beneath her ribs. Cynder released a loud squeal as the biting chill seeped through her scales, deep into her side.

"Aaah!" she screeched, squirming desperately to free herself. "Spyro! Damn it, that's _cold_!"

"The best kind of revenge!" Spyro laughed.

He pressed the ice block harder against her scales, shifting it toward the small of her back, and in response Cynder thrashed harder as she frantically struggled to escape the numbing chill. Despite this, she couldn't help the shrill giggle that escaped her jaws at the same time.

"Spyro, stop it!" she exclaimed.

"Make me."

Cynder continued to squirm and wriggle until finally she couldn't take it anymore. With a sharp cry she kicked out with her paws, hard enough to knock Spyro off balance but not enough to risk hurting him, and while he was fighting to keep from falling she quickly sank into a pool of shadow. When Spyro realized she had vanished he faltered, but then before he could react Cynder reappeared behind him and pounced, nearly knocking him over onto his stomach.

"You're going to regret that," she snickered as she clung onto his back.

"Oh yeah?" he grinned. "I don't think so!"

Allowing the ice covering his paw to shatter, Spyro reached up in an attempt to grab hold of Cynder again, but this time she was ready for him and nimbly jumped away, landing in front of him with a mocking laugh. Undeterred, Spyro lunged forward and managed to tackle the dragoness down onto the bedding again, but he couldn't hold on to her. In short order she had extracted herself from his grip and turned the tables on him, knocking him over onto his side and pinning his wing and foreleg. In spite of this he still managed to squirm out of her hold, though, and from there the process repeated itself, the two dragons wrestling for dominance and both of them laughing gleefully the whole time.

Finally, the end of their struggle came into sight. Having momentarily gained the upper hand, Spyro reached with his forepaw to try and trap Cynder's only free foreleg, but as soon as he shifted his weight forward Cynder struck. Grabbing his forepaw above the wrist, she used her tail to sweep his hind leg out from under him and pulled on his paw at the same time, causing him to teeter precariously. At the same time she pushed herself sharply up off of the cushions, driving her hip into his underbelly, and with a startled cry Spyro was flipped over onto his back.

He gave a winded grunt as he landed hard on the bedding, and while he was dazed Cynder hurried to pin him down. She grabbed hold of both of his forelegs and forced them down by his shoulders, leaning her chest against his at the same time and using her weight to trap him. In this position it no longer mattered that he was stronger than she was and held the weight advantage; though he struggled, he was completely unable to free himself. Then Cynder leaned her head down until she was gazing straight into his eyes, a superior grin on her lips.

"I win."

Spyro struggled again, but it only lasted for a brief moment. Then he heaved a large sigh, realizing that he had no choice but to admit defeat.

"Alright, alright, fine, you got me," he relented, his tone frustrated but his expression holding a veiled humour. "I guess I'm up."

"Glad to hear it," Cynder smirked.

Spyro gave her an amused glare.

"Evil."

"Aw," Cynder chuckled. "And I thought I had everyone fooled."

"I guess I just know you too well."

Cynder chuckled again, and for a moment after that there was silence, neither dragon moving as they held each other's tender gaze. Then Cynder leaned her head down, briefly pressing the top of her pointed snout against his, causing a soft smile to spread across his features and a feeling of warmth to envelop her. A moment later she slowly straightened, releasing him from her grip and allowing him to roll over onto his side.

"So, now that you've guaranteed that I won't be falling back asleep, what was it that you wanted?" Spyro asked wryly.

"Hunter and Meadow are waiting outside," Cynder replied. "I suggested that we all go explore the festival together."

Spyro straightened quickly, fixing her with a look of surprise. "Hunter and Meadow? They're here?"

Cynder nodded, smirking. "Yes, and I'm pretty sure they would appreciate the chance to see you again, so come on! Up off that bed!"

"Alright, alright!" Spyro chuckled, rolling upright and pushing himself to his paws. "I'm up. Let's go."

Cynder snorted and shook her head with amusement while Spyro passed her on his way to the steps. Then she rose and followed him, and together the pair descended into the chamber's common area before turning toward the doorway. They were mildly surprised when they exited into the corridor, however, because when they did they found that it wasn't empty. A few paces ahead of them stood Faren, the slight, rose red dragoness apparently having just exited her own room as well. When she caught sight of them she faltered, a startled expression on her face.

"Um..." she said slowly, looking as though she wasn't quite sure how she should react upon seeing both Spyro and Cynder come out of the purple dragon's room. "Good morning?"

"Hey Faren," Spyro replied.

"Did you just wake up?" Cynder asked her.

"Uh...Oh, no. No, I've been awake for a little while. And...you guys?"

Cynder couldn't help giving a small grin at the almost worried tone to the other dragoness's voice, as though she wasn't sure she wanted to know what they had been up to. Then she took pity on her friend and decided to put her uncertainties to rest.

"Just making sure Spyro wasn't going to sleep the whole day away," the black dragoness explained, at the same time turning a smirk toward the purple dragon and jabbing him in the ribs with a folded wing, making him wince before chuckling quietly.

"Oh," Faren said, an almost embarrassed look flitting across her expression. "Okay."

Cynder grinned again. "So, got any plans for today?"

Faren paused for a short moment, still looking a bit embarrassed, but eventually she shook herself back to the present.

"No, not really," she replied. "Sirius said he was going to be busy all day, so I guess I was just going to sort of see what came up as the day went."

"Well, would you like to join us? I was thinking we should head over to the Great Hall. Sound good, Spyro?"

"Yes please," Spyro nodded eagerly.

Cynder smirked and shoved him playfully again before turning her attention back to Faren. "So?"

Faren hesitated only briefly before giving a small smile and nodding her head. "Okay."

"Great," Spyro said, smiling. "So, should we get going?"

Cynder nodded her head in agreement, and only a couple of short minutes later the trio had descended to the ground floor of the building and exited into the busy street. Once there Cynder steered her two companions toward the waiting cheetahs, who looked up as they approached.

"Found him," she declared smugly. "Took a bit of convincing, but here he is."

"Spyro, it is good to see you again," Hunter declared with a smile as he and his tribesman straightened to greet the dragons.

"Thanks, Hunter," Spyro grinned. "You too. And Meadow, this is a nice surprise."

"Indeed it is," the darker cheetah answered. "It's a shame it's been so long."

"Yeah, it is," the purple dragon agreed. Then he gestured with a paw toward the red dragoness standing on his left, glancing toward her. "I guess you two haven't met each other yet, huh? Meadow, this is Faren, a good friend of ours."

"It is a pleasure," Meadow said graciously, a warm smile on his face as he inclined his head respectfully to the dragoness. "Hunter has told me about you. By the sounds of it, you are quite the skilled fire wielder."

Faren shuffled her forepaws and her gaze dropped briefly to the cobblestones, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Thanks."

Meadow grinned softly at the sight of her timidity, chuckling. "Is it true that you were able to bulls-eye a charging grublin from a hundred yards away during the battle that took place here in Warfang?"

Again Faren fidgeted anxiously, but at the same time her smile grew marginally, a hint of pride briefly showing in her expression.

"I'm not sure if it was that far..." she began.

"It was," Hunter nodded, a serious gaze directed at Meadow but a smile on his face as well. "And in the chaos present at the time, it was a very difficult shot to achieve."

"Remarkable," the other cheetah muttered. "That must have taken years of practice."

Faren nodded. "My fire was never very strong, so instead of making me use it up close Father trained me to use range as much as I could."

"Well, you should be proud if you managed to impress Hunter. He's spent a lifetime perfecting his shot, so he knows skill when he sees it."

For a brief moment Cynder thought she saw Faren's cheeks turn even more red than usual, and the fire dragoness again averted her gaze.

"Thank you."

Meadow and Hunter both smiled again.

"So, would it be alright with you two if we stop at the Great Hall before going anywhere else?" Cynder asked the two cheetahs. "None of us have had anything to eat yet."

"That sounds like a good idea," Hunter nodded. "We never had much in the way of a meal this morning either, did we Meadow?"

Meadow shook his head. "Unfortunately."

"Well, that's settled then," Spyro declared brightly. "Let's go."

With everyone in agreement, the group of five companions set off in the direction of Warfang's largest and grandest dining hall, which in the weeks leading up to the Liberty Festival had undergone some renovations to make it as optimized for serving large numbers of guests as rapidly as possible. When they arrived they enjoyed a quick meal, and once they had all eaten their fill they made certain to thank the cooks before venturing out into the city.

They walked for several minutes, talking lightly and taking in the sights around them, but after a while Cynder found her thoughts drifting back to her earlier encounter with Prowlus and what the cheetah chief had said. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she looked up at Hunter beside her, managing to catch his attention in short order.

"Hey, Hunter?" she said. "I was wondering about what you and Prowlus were saying before, about the conference. What all sort of treaties will you be discussing?"

"What treaties?" Spyro asked, overhearing her.

"Treaties of cooperation between the Greater Races," Hunter replied, glancing between the two dragons. "Although I doubt any actual treaties will be brought up during these talks."

"The Guardians are just hoping to begin opening up dialogue," Meadow told them. "Drafting actual treaties and agreements is a process that will likely take months."

"Oh, I see," Cynder nodded. "And what are the Greater Races? I haven't heard that term before."

"Me neither," Spyro added.

"I have," Faren said, causing Cynder and the others to look over at her. "Father told me and Sirius about them. It's what the strongest races of the world are called."

"It is like a sort of collective," Hunter explained. "It is a term used for the races that stand out from the rest, for any number of possible reasons. A race may be included among the Greater Races for their strength in numbers, or because of their ingenuity or industry, or simply for bearing great natural power. Anything at all that makes them a notable force in our world."

"How many races are included?" Spyro asked.

"A few," Meadow answered. "There are the dragons, of course, and the moles. Then there are the griffins, and the collective feline tribes, and the wolves—"

"The wolves?" Cynder repeated in surprise, cutting the cheetah off. "But I thought they stayed in the southern continent."

"They do," Hunter replied. "However, while they value their own space, their territories to the south are great and they are a strong ally to have in times of trouble."

"Are there wolves in the city?" Spyro asked.

"They were invited from what I hear," Meadow said. "But I don't think a busy festival like this would really suited them. As it is, apparently contact with them has been made through mole couriers for a few weeks now."

"Huh," Cynder grunted, nodding absently. "So will these talks last for the whole festival?"

"No, only for a couple of days most likely," Meadow replied, shaking his head. "After that I expect many of the representatives will be returning to their own lands. I'm certain Prowlus will be among those departing the city as quickly as possible." At this he gave a small chuckle, and Hunter did as well. "However, I think Hunter and I are planning to stay for longer, along with several other members of our tribe that have accompanied us here."

Cynder grunted again with another nod, her mind working over what she had learned. A silence fell over the group after that for a time, each of them deep in their own thoughts.

For the next hour they simply wandered the streets, keeping their eyes open for any attractions that caught their interest but content to just explore for the time being. Cynder greatly enjoyed the chance to spend time in the company of her cheetah friends, which until that point she had only ever really interacted with in times of conflict and danger. Hunter especially.  
It felt almost like she was seeing a whole new side of him, his normal intensity and seriousness not entirely gone but still reduced, replaced by what could almost be called light-heartedness.

Of course, travelling in public did have its hazards, and Cynder realized with a feeling of irritation that it had been too much to hope for a morning completely free of disturbances. On two occasions the group was halted in the streets by dragons dying for the chance to meet Spyro, once by an adult male visiting from the Eastern City who wished to personally express his gratitude for saving them from Malefor, and once by a trio of dragons a year or two younger than them that viewed the purple dragon as an absolute idol.

The first interruption actually wasn't so bad, Cynder conceded, even if she would have rather that they be left in peace. The dragon had even expressed his admiration of her as well as Spyro for her role in the Dark Master's defeat and for her strength in her efforts to redeem herself of her past, which had touched Cynder tremendously. However, dealing with the second group of fans had been outright annoying, especially given how obvious it was that the two dragonesses amongst them were quite enamoured of the purple hero. Thankfully Spyro had managed to politely send them on their way in relatively short order, but still it left Cynder feeling sour for quite some time afterward.

It was with a heavy feeling of frustration, then, when only a few minutes later Cynder once again heard the sound of someone excitedly calling the purple dragon's name. However, this time the source came as a bit of a surprise.

"Hey!" a female voice called out excitedly. "Hey, Spyro! Spyro, over here!"

The group of five companions all paused, turning puzzled looks in the direction of the voice, and soon enough Cynder had caught sight of a yellow-scaled dragoness their age waving insistently in the purple dragon's direction. A second later she was rushing over toward them and Cynder gave a silent huff of annoyance and rolled her eyes. However, as the dragoness drew to a halt in front of Spyro, grinning widely, Cynder faltered when she realized she recognized her.

"Voltra?" Spyro said, surprise heavy in his expression before it was replaced by a large smile. "Hey! I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon."

"Me neither," the electricity dragoness giggled. "This is crazy! And I didn't even knock you over this time."

Spyro gave a quick laugh, and beside him Cynder found herself shooting odd glances between the two dragons, caught very much off guard by this dragoness's sudden appearance and enthusiasm toward Spyro. Just at that moment the dragoness swept her gaze over the hero's companions, her blue eyes curious.

"Hi," she said to them, giving a large, friendly smile. "I'm Voltra. Nice to meet you."

Hunter chuckled, shaking his head with amusement at the energy of the young dragoness before stepping forward and bowing his head politely. "It is nice to meet you too. My name is Hunter."

Voltra's eyes lit up with recognition, and she pointed a talon up at him. "Hey, I've heard about you. People say you're the best archer in all the Dragon Realms."

The cheetah gave another chuckle. "Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I'm flattered."

Voltra grinned excitedly before turning her head toward Meadow. "And you?"

"Meadow," the orange-furred cheetah replied, also with an amused smile on his face. "And it is a pleasure. Although I have to say, you certainly seem like a very energized young dragoness."

Voltra laughed, nodding her head. "Yeah, my mom says I've got too much spark in me for my own good, so sorry if I'm a bit overwhelming."

"Not at all," Meadow told her, shaking his head.

The yellow dragoness smiled again before then turning to face Faren. "And what about you?"

"Um..." Faren murmured uncertainly, appearing as though she didn't quite know how to handle Voltra's abundance of enthusiasm. "I..."

"Ohh, you're shy," Voltra said, her tone and expression becoming gentler, her smile softening. "It's okay, you don't have to be uncomfortable. I don't bite, I swear."

At this Faren couldn't help but let out a faint giggle, and it seemed as though the other dragoness's kind smile helped to ease just a little bit of her nerves. "I'm Faren. It...It's nice to meet you."

"There we go!" Voltra grinned triumphantly, and Faren laughed quietly again. Finally, the electric dragoness turned to face Cynder, who until this point had been silent. "And of course I don't need to ask who you are. I'm really, really glad to..."

She trailed off and her smile faltered when she finally noticed the hard, scrutinizing look that the black dragoness was giving her, an intense light in her emerald eyes. Voltra drew back uncertainly, and around Cynder the other members of the group also turned confused looks in her direction.

Cynder didn't notice this. Though she couldn't understand why, during the course of Voltra's introductions she had inexplicably been struck by a powerful sense of familiarity. Something about this dragoness's face seemed to taunt her memory, as though her identity should be known to her.

"Umm..." Voltra said uncertainly, appearing to grow more uncomfortable by the second. "Is something wrong?"

"Cynder?" Spyro said, taking a step closer to her.

Finally Cynder became aware of the looks she was receiving, and all at once a feeling of embarrassment overcame her. She felt her cheeks flush, and she shook her head sharply as if to clear it.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up to face Voltra again. "This might sound strange, but do I know you from somewhere? Something about you just seems familiar."

"Really?" Voltra blinked, surprised. Then her expression became thoughtful. "Well, I don't think we've ever seen each other before. I mean, I've only been in Warfang for a little while. My family were drifters for a long time until the war ended."

"I see," Cynder grunted, nodding in understanding. 'Drifter' was a term that she knew was used to refer to dragons from small villages that had voluntarily abandoned their homes after the official start of the war. When the apes attacked on the Year of the Dragon and the dragons declared all-out war in response, these village dragons had fled from the approaching fighting before it could claim their lives as well. Travelling in groups of up to a dozen or so, they would be in constant movement in order to stay ahead of the ape armies. "Sorry, I don't know what came over—"

"Oh!" Voltra cut in suddenly, a look of realization sparking in her eyes. "I know, you must be thinking of my dad. He fought you eight years ago when you almost captured my family's drifter group so that we could get away."

Cynder faltered, a familiar feeling of panic flaring in her chest at this news, and around her she saw Spyro and her other companions cringe, apprehension in their postures.

"And..." Cynder began uncertainly, dreading the answer to the question she was about to ask. "Is he...?"

"Alive," Voltra replied, a knowing glint in her eyes and a soft smile appearing at the corner of her mouth.

Cynder immediately heaved a large sigh of relief. _Thank the Ancestors..._

"No, all you really managed to do to him was knock off half of his right horn, which he was pretty annoyed about but nothing much more serious than that," the yellow dragoness continued. "He says he led you on a pretty good chase to keep you from noticing the rest of us."

"Hey, wait, I remember him!" Cynder exclaimed suddenly. "He's one of the fastest dragons I ever fought. It was really, _really_ infuriating!"

Voltra laughed knowingly. "Yeah, he was bragging about that day for years after that. Highlight of his fighting career, I think."

Cynder gave a small chuckle, her gaze falling thoughtfully as her anxiety slowly melted away. Still, she felt a sort of grim heaviness settle over her as she thought back to those dark days. Voltra seemed to notice this quickly enough.

"Don't worry," she said, causing Cynder to look up at her in confusion. "After we got to the city here and he heard the real story behind why you did the things you did, he understood that it wasn't your fault. He's got a lot of respect for you, after the recent things you've done."

Immediately Cynder felt like a weight had been lifted off of her, and she gave a grateful smile. "Well, tell him that after that day I had a good deal of respect for him too. Grudging, of course, but respect either way."

Voltra chuckled, nodding. "I'll do that."

"So, Voltra," Spyro interjected at that moment, sounding relieved that an uncomfortable situation had been averted and eager to proceed to a different subject. "What were you doing before we came over?"

"Oh, just looking around," the dragoness replied. "There's a lot of really cool stuff going on, you know? It's fun to just wander around and take it in."

"Oh yeah, we were just doing the same thing," Spyro agreed with a quick nod, smiling. "Actually, if you want you could probably join us."

"Really?" Voltra exclaimed, a look of shock crossing her features, but excitement as well.

Spyro shrugged. "Why not? You guys don't mind, do you?"

Hunter and Meadow both shook their heads immediately, and Faren added a soft, "No." Voltra's grin grew even brighter than before.

"Wow," she laughed. "Alright, sounds like fun. So, where are we headed?"

"I don't know," Spyro replied with another shrug. "Do you know about anything happening that would be fun to see?"

Voltra frowned for a few seconds in thought, but then her expression quickly lit up.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I heard a bunch of badgers talking about something big going on in the gardens, and I was just thinking about checking it out. Come on!"

There was no option to argue, because before anyone could say anything else Voltra had hooked her right wing around Spyro's neck and yanked him in the direction of the market strip from which she had approached them, through which the city's gardens were located. Hunter, Meadow and Faren quickly moved to follow the excited dragoness and her captive, but Cynder found herself once again caught in a slightly startled daze at Voltra's unexpected action.

Then, when she realized that she was being left behind, the black dragoness shook her head before jogging to catch up to the others, shooting one last odd glance at Voltra before turning her attention back to their surroundings as they walked. She listened absently as Voltra chatted happily away, getting acquainted with her new companions and getting them to tell all their stories. She certainly seemed friendly, but still, Cynder wasn't entirely sure what to make of her yet.

She gave a small shrug, deciding that she would just have to wait and see.

In this fashion, the newly expanded group wandered off down the Warfang's lively streets, the city around them bustling with jovial activity as its residents prepared for another day of prosperity and celebration...

* * *

**Now, before you say anything, yes, I am aware that this chapter was filler-y. However, rest assured, there _is_ a purpose to it, as the situation and background I'm employing for this story is a bit extensive, and I need to get the foundation set before I can start building. Don't worry, the building will be happening before too much longer. :)**

**Now, for some good news! Remember how I said that this chapter had reached 19,800 words before I split it in half? You know what that means? That's right, the next chapter IS ALREADY WRITTEN! I just need to edit it a bit at the start to tidy it up, and then it'll be ready for posting! So, you can expect a very short wait before my next update. Seems fair, after making you wait so long for this one. :)  
**

**So, that's all for right now. Hope you liked it everybody!  
**

**Happy Thanksgiving weekend, and until next time...  
**


	5. Chapter 5: A New Player

**Told you the next update wasn't going to take very long. :) I guess that's the advantage of going overboard on one chapter; the next one's already done by the time you get to it. X)  
**

**Well, read on!  
**

* * *

_Chapter 5: A New Player_

"Whoa, whoa, wait. They tried to do _what_ to you?"

Voltra gazed up at Spyro with an incredulous look in her bright blue eyes, appearing as though she was caught somewhere between disbelief and great amusement. Beside her the purple dragon gave a sly grin at the corner of his muzzle, chuckling.

"You heard me. Set me on fire."

Voltra stared at him, dumbfounded, but also looking like she was on the verge of breaking out in laughter as their group made their way steadily through the packed streets of the city.

They had been walking for somewhere close to half an hour by this point, looping around steadily toward the gardens located within the city's southern quadrant, a few levels down from the Temple and surrounded by one of Warfang's more prominent housing districts. Traffic in the streets prevented them from making as good of time as they could have, but they were already walking at an unhurried pace regardless. They were simply content to take in the atmosphere of the morning.

During this time Voltra had kept up a near constant stream of conversation with the other group members, pressing them all to tell their stories. She focussed her attention especially on the purple dragon, walking by his side for the entire trip so far and listening with rapt attention as he told her of his more recent experiences, such as the one currently being discussed.

"On fire," she repeated, eyeing the dragon beside her dubiously. "Um, why?"

Spyro shrugged. "I don't really know, to be completely honest. Apparently they saw me as some sort of 'great spirit' trapped in a mortal body because of my powers, and they wanted to release me into the world to be free again, so they tried to dress me up in some sort of ceremonial robe thing made of grass and tree bark pieces, put this weird leaf crown on my head, dunked me with something that smelled like cooking oil and then carried out this torch."

Voltra couldn't help herself at this and immediately burst out in gleeful laughter, shaking her head at the absurdity of the tale. A few paces back from the pair, Cynder was unable to keep from giving a small smirk at the corner of her mouth as well as she recalled the story.

The incident Spyro was referring to had occurred three and a half months prior. As reconstruction in Warfang had neared completion after the end of the fighting against the grublins, the Guardians had started the lengthy, tiring task of filling Spyro in on matters of diplomacy and rhetoric. They had said that his position as a purple dragon and saviour of the world imposed on him a level of duty to the public that would follow him for the rest of his days, much to his chagrin. Part of this teaching had involved a sort of tour, in which Cyril and Sirius had travelled with him all across the lands for two weeks so that he might introduce himself to the different peoples of their realms.

One such stop had been to a tribe of lemurs living in a small, isolated patch of jungle-like forest on the other side of the mountains to the west, between Avalar and the destroyed dragon village. From Spyro's account, they were a very primitive culture and avid believers in the natural forces and spirits of the world. No one could deny that Spyro was certainly a powerful force of nature, and apparently the lemurs had interpreted this to mean that his spirit was meant to exist freely in the world, and that it was a heinous injustice to him for it to exist within a single body.

Their solution had been to attempt to light him on fire.

The Guardians had only barely managed to prevent the lemurs from cremating the world's purple hero, and the incident had made the two elder dragons feel it would be wise to cut the rest of Spyro's journey short. They had returned to Warfang to more thoroughly train him on dealing with the customs of unfamiliar races, so that similar occurrences might be avoided. When he had arrived back in the city, confused and shaken, he had told Cynder everything. To his irritation he had received no sympathy from the black dragoness. Instead it had amused her to no end to hear about her companion finding himself in such an absurd situation, just as it seemed to be doing for Voltra as well at that moment.

"Okay, that is hilarious," the yellow dragoness laughed. "This is now officially the strangest story I've ever heard. I can't believe that actually happened!"

"Oh, it happened," Spyro snorted with a half grin. "And I don't think I'm ever going to forget something as strange as that happening to me. Fighting grublins and Malefor, sure, but getting set ablaze by a bunch of lemurs?"

Voltra laughed again and shoved the purple dragon playfully with a wing, looking as though she was having the time of her life. Cynder chuckled again as well, but when she looked back up at the pair of dragons walking ahead of her she faltered slightly. She gave a small frown of uncertainty as she noticed the way that Voltra never strayed from Spyro's side as they walked, and how the purple dragon laughed and smiled when she spoke to him with that wellspring of enthusiasm of hers.

For a reason that she couldn't quite understand, Cynder felt a strange sort of tension clawing at her insides as she watched them together. Though the yellow dragoness's smile was bright and infectious, the sight of it directed at Spyro caused a twinge of bitterness inside of Cynder, and the musical ring of her laughter caused her jaws to grind. Though she didn't know why, something about her just set Cynder on edge.

It took a second for Cynder to realize that she was glaring, but as soon as she did she faltered and shook her head, becoming confused.

_What is going on with me?_ she thought in bewilderment. _I have no reason not to like her, do I?_

She had hardly known this dragoness for any time at all, but already she got the impression that Voltra was a very pleasant person, even if her excess of energy did come across as a bit much at times. After all, she was clearly very friendly, and the way she had shown absolutely no suspicion or animosity toward Cynder while they were talking seemed to indicate that she had a good heart to her as well. So why did the sight of the yellow dragoness trigger what could almost be called resentment, Cynder wondered?

_Well, the first time you saw her she _did_ have her paws all over your dragon_, a voice in the back of her mind pointed out.

Cynder faltered again, considering this thought with a feeling of surprise.

_That can't really be it, can it? _she wondered uncertainly. _Just from them accidentally bumping into each other in a crowd?_

The idea seemed absurd, and yet as Cynder tried to force it from her mind it resisted, clinging to her consciousness with stubborn fingers and refusing to be budged. She couldn't help seeing an image of that moment flash before her; Voltra, helping Spyro to his feet with that look of shock and concern on her face, paw resting gently on his shoulder, leaning in close...

She shook her head roughly to dismiss the memory, scowling bitterly.

_You're being ridiculous!_ she scolded herself. _There's absolutely no reason to feel threatened by her! And besides, she's one of the few who's willing to judge you on who you are now, not what you were. It would be foolish to let some petty jealousy ruin a potential friendship like that._

She let out a quiet sigh, feeling silly and a bit ashamed. Then, once the bitterness had gone, she lifted her head and quickened her pace to pull up nearer to Spyro's free side, eager to join in on the group's conversation.

It took them almost another half hour to reach their destination, weaving through the city's maze of streets and walkways and skirting back and forth through its many levels. Eventually, though, they reached the gardens, which had become quite a popular locale for events during the festival for the open spaces and scenery they provided. When they reached the expansive grounds the buildings fell away on either side and they found themselves following a cobbled street that ran around the garden's perimeter, an ornate stone railing on their right looking out over the lush greenery a level below them. Then, a minute later, Cynder suddenly caught sight of a familiar glint of colour ahead.

"Guys!" an easily recognizable voice called out, and a second later Chinook appeared through a cluster of pedestrians and hurried over to them, Flash and Enigma appearing behind him in short order. "Hey! What are you guys doing here?"

"We heard something was going on in the gardens," Spyro replied, nodding his head over the railings. "So we came to check it out."

"Us too," Flash said as he and Enigma stepped up beside Chinook.

"Really?" Faren asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Chinook chuckled. "That's pretty crazy timing." Just then his eyes seemed to pick out the shade of yellow that was out of place in their numbers. His gaze quickly turned toward Voltra, and his brows raised in a look of intrigue. "Well hello. Who's this?"

"Voltra," she replied with a smirk.

Chinook's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, right, the one that made Spyro face-plant outside the Temple."

Voltra giggled. "Yep, that's me."

"Well, the name's Chinook," the wind dragon told her, grinning. "But everyone calls me Chik. And this is Flash and Enigma."

He gestured at the other two dragons that were just then stepping up beside him to join their friends. Voltra gave them both bright smiles, nodding her head to each of them. Introductions were quickly passed about, Voltra exchanging a few words with the two new dragons and Spyro introducing the three newcomers to their cheetah companions. Once all of the group members were properly acquainted they returned their attention to the matter at hand.

"So, since we're all here for the same reason I guess we might as well see what all this commotion in the gardens is about together," Enigma spoke up, her deep blue eyes scanning over the other members of the group of now nine members. "Shall we?"

There were a number of nods of agreement, and a moment later they had descended the nearest set of steps into the first level of the lush grounds and were padding along one of the smooth river stone pathways that were arrayed across the area. For several minutes they simply wandered, eyes scanning intently for any abnormal activity. Then, a short while later, they all paused when a strange rumble reached their ears.

"What was that?" Faren asked in confusion.

"It came from that way," Hunter declared, gazing intently to the south-west over a stand of decorative trees.

"Let's check it out," Chinook said without hesitation, and before the others could stop him he had taken off running in the direction Hunter had indicated.

The others hurried after him, and shortly afterward they had passed the trees and descended into the next level of the gardens. They all paused in surprise when a set of broad wooden stands came into sight a ways ahead, arranged like some sort of outdoor stadium, and the group members exchanged puzzled glances before hurrying on once again.

They followed another coloured stone pathway that would take them up to the crest of a low hill against the slope of which one of the main sets of stands had been built. As they drew nearer Cynder could hear the sound of cheering and a great many excited voices from the stands, as well as frequent rumbles and crashes that sounded oddly like elemental attacks. She exchanged a glance with Spyro, and by his expression she knew that he was just as puzzled by this as she was.

"Sparring ground?" Flash suggested.

"Could be," Chinook agreed with a nod of his head. "If it is, one of you guys should take someone on."

He said these last words to Spyro and Cynder, and both dragons gave small snorts of laughter.

"We'll see," was Cynder's simple reply while Spyro gave the wind dragon a doubtful smile.

A moment later the group reached the peak of the hill, and what they saw on the other side caused Cynder to falter. While the stands had looked large from a distance, it was impossible to truly appreciate the scale of them until one was standing right at the edge of them. The stands were low, the highest row of seating only a dozen feet or so above ground level, but still there was enough room to seat thousands of spectators, and at the moment there were a great many present. Dragons, moles, panthers, cougars, foxes, and many others, all cheering thunderously and shouting at the top of their lungs in support of the contest below.

In the middle of the stands, meanwhile, a large oval-shaped patch of grass and compacted dirt had been cleared away, with a large ring on either end that glowed around the perimeter, clearly infused with some sort of magic. In the centre of this ring stood a strange sort of contraption like a pedestal, the top hollowed out and looking as if some sort of sphere was meant to fit into it. Finally, a set of thick stone barricades had been set up at various points around the oval, concentrated mostly around the centre and forming a sort of obstacle field that restricted movement, creating several choke points and narrow passages almost like some sort of military fortification.

Currently ten dragons were arrayed inside the oval, and Cynder realized quickly that this was the source of the sounds of elemental combat. Only, they weren't actually attacking each other with their elements. Instead they were using them in what looked to be some sort of interference tactic, although what the purpose of this might be was something Cynder couldn't grasp.

"No way!" Chinook exclaimed suddenly, jolting Cynder and causing her to turn a puzzled gaze toward him. "I didn't know they built a thunderball arena!"

"Fascinating," Hunter said, a keen light in his eyes as he examined the scene before them. "I've only ever heard stories of this event. I've often wondered what it would be like to see."

"I wonder why Sirius didn't say anything about this," Faren commented, sounding deeply bewildered. "He's always loved thunderball."

"What's thunderball?" Spyro asked, just barely beating Cynder to asking the question that was so clearly on both of their minds.

The five other dragons all turned shocked expressions toward the purple hero, while Hunter and Meadow merely fixed Spyro with looks of lesser surprise. Spyro quickly drew back, looking baffled and even a little unsettled by this reaction. Cynder felt the same, and she couldn't imagine why her friends would behave like this.

"You're kidding," Voltra said in a quiet voice, disbelief thick in her tone.

"You can't seriously not know what thunderball is," Chinook added. "What kind of dragon doesn't know this game?"

Faren and Flash both cringed, but Chinook didn't seem to notice. Cynder, however, immediately bristled at that remark, and beside her Spyro winced as he was reminded of his continuing struggles to fit into a society that he knew so little about. This only added to Cynder's anger, and her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare before she took a challenging step forward, snatching the grey dragon's attention.

"Maybe the kind of dragons that didn't have the luxury of growing up with their own kind," she snapped.

Chinook balked, a startled look crossing his features before quickly being replaced by one of shame, and all he could say was, "Oh."

Beside him, Enigma rolled her eyes and could be heard muttering, "Extract paw from mouth..."

An awkward silence followed, Cynder continuing to stare Chinook down and Spyro still glancing amongst his friends in uncertainty. Flash, Faren and Voltra all bore uncomfortable expressions on their faces. Voltra in particular seemed puzzled by the meaning of Cynder's rebuke—at least in regards to Spyro, since the black dragoness's own story was quite clear while Spyro's full background hadn't been brought up during the time that they had been speaking—but she had the wisdom not to ask at that moment. Then, mercifully, Hunter took that opportunity to break the tension, clearing his throat.

"Thunderball is the dragon race's most famous contest," he explained, catching the attention of Spyro and Cynder. "It is known across the Dragon Realms and beyond as one of the most thrilling spectator events in the lands, so much so that it has become a sort of icon of dragon culture."

"Which is ironic, considering it was invented by the moles," Enigma said expressionlessly.

"Really?" Spyro asked, a brow arched in surprise.

"It was indeed," Meadow nodded. "Shortly after they finished construction of Warfang, in fact. My understanding of it is that after a number of years of living together with the dragons, the moles took interest of the fact that the only real contests the dragons ever participated in were duels or the occasional race, which they found odd when contrasted to the diverse assortment of activities the moles themselves regularly took part in. In light of this, a small group of moles set to work creating a new event that the dragons could take up."

"The dragons were involved in designing it too, obviously," Chinook commented. "The moles handled designing the arena and building everything, and the dragons took care of the magical parts and some of the rules."

"Okay, so how does it work?" Cynder asked, glancing over toward the arena below them again when the deep _boom_ of a fireball detonating reached them.

"There are two teams of five dragons," Voltra began, pointing out how the dragons currently inside the oval seemed to be organized in two distinct groups, facing off against each other. "And there are two balls, which are these big crystal spheres that are created by magic on each team's pedestal. See?"

Just as she was speaking, the nearer of the two pedestals suddenly lit up at the top with a bright yellow-white light. When the light faded a polished sphere was revealed, resting perfectly in the hollowed-out bowl at the pedestal's top. Immediately two dragons rushed toward it, one shooting a stream of ice at it that seemed to be absorbed into the sphere, turning it blue, before grabbing it securely under one wing and sprinting off toward the centre of the arena, the other dragon covering him.

"The object of the game is to score points by carrying your team's ball into the other team's score area, which is inside that glowing ring," Chinook said. "Once you get the ball inside the ring it disappears and you get a point, and then another ball is created at your pedestal after a small delay."

"And the whole time, the other team is trying to do the exact same thing you just did," Voltra added in.

"It can get pretty complicated at times," Flash said.

"It sure sounds like it," Cynder nodded, her mind racing as she tried to sort out the rapid flow of information.

"So why is it called thunderball?" Spyro asked.

"Well, there's a rumour that the lead dragon involved in creating the game was an electricity dragon," Chinook grunted. "But the main reason is because of how loud it can get with ten dragons all using their elements at once."

To reinforce his point, a tremendous rumble temporarily drowned out all other sound, and Cynder snapped her head around to see that the blue dragon that had been trying to reach his opponent's score area had just had his path cut off by an earth dragon opponent, who had used his power to create a towering barricade of jagged stone directly in his path. The ice dragon skidded to a halt, searching for a way around this obstacle, and a second later he was tackled roughly from behind by an electric dragon who used a forepaw to swat the ball he was holding away. The ball sailed a short distance through the air before exploding in a brilliant flash of white light, vanishing.

"So do you guys want to stay and watch the rest of the match?" Chinook asked eagerly, excitement shining in his eyes.

Hunter chuckled. "I take it you are a fan of this game."

"Duh. This is the best game ever! Back at home while I was growing up some dragons organized a small league, and there would be matches all the time. It was so much fun to watch, it almost made you forget that you were hiding from a war."

"Which was probably the point," Flash commented, and beside him Faren nodded in agreement.

"Whatever. All I'm saying is that it was a blast."

No one said anything more in reply to this, all eyes turning toward the game field for a short moment.

"I think I'd like to stay and see it," Spyro said finally, glancing toward Cynder, and the black dragoness quickly nodded her head in agreement, her curiosity piqued.

"Let us see if we can't find some open seats, then," Hunter declared, turning about and scanning the stands with his keen blue-green eyes.

It didn't take the group long to find somewhere to sit. As fortune would have it they were able to spot an opening near the edge of the arena, a trio of coyotes having just gotten up to leave, and the rest of the spectators on the strip of benches hurriedly made room for the newcomers when they caught sight of Spyro amongst them—a fact which clearly caused the purple dragon some embarrassment, which in turn amused Cynder a great deal. Then, once settled, they turned their attention to the match.

Cynder understood quickly why it was such a popular event, because within only minutes she had become engrossed in the game's tremendously fast pace and the excitement of watching the two teams of dragons only slightly older than themselves battling for supremacy. She very quickly came to appreciate the high degree of strategy involved in the game as well, each team having to simultaneously try and break through their opposition's defence to reach the scoring ring while at the same time ensuring that they didn't leave their own goal zone undefended.

She was surprised when Spyro asked why none of the dragons were flying and Voltra replied that the rules forbid it, however, finding it very strange that a dragon game would restrict its players to the ground. Still, she realized that it did add to the challenge involved, which in turn created more excitement. Add to that the fact that a player could only touch the ball when it was charged with their element, lest it explode in their face, and it became quite apparent that thunderball was a very technical game indeed. Cynder, of course, was greatly intrigued by this, her tactical mind whirring as she followed the action intently.

The match playing out before them appeared greatly one-sided, she realized before long. One of the teams, which a fire dragon commentator identified as 'Team Slate'—apparently named after the team's earth dragon captain—had clearly settled upon a brute-force approach to the game. The team of two earth dragons, two fire dragons, and one electricity dragon showed no remorse as they used their elements to harrow their opponents at every turn, bringing their advances to dead halts before tripping, tackling, or otherwise battering the other players to strip the ball from them. All the while, the electricity dragon and one of the fire dragons used the cover their teammates' carnage provided to sneak into the opposing team's scoring area time after time, running up a terribly steep score against them. When the game time finally expired, as indicated by a large hourglass on the dragon referee's lookout platform, the score was thirty to six in Team Slate's favour.

"They're good," Faren noted in a slightly stunned voice, and Cynder glanced toward the red dragoness to see that she was watching the proceedings below with wide eyes, as though unsure whether to be impressed or afraid of the winning team's brutal efficiency.

"Kind of dirty play, though," Voltra grunted, a frown on her features as she watched the bruised players of the losing team plodding toward one of the exits of the oval, their wings and heads drooping with disappointment and frustration. "It's all just supposed to be for fun, after all."

"Yeah, well, just part of the game," Chinook shrugged in reply, although Cynder noticed that behind the excitement in his bearing there was a hint of disapproval as well.

Just at that moment, over the roaring of the crowd Cynder heard a loud, enthusiastic voice call for attention, and she turned her head toward the centre of the playing field where the fire dragon commentator was standing with his wings spread wide. Beside him stood the members of Slate's winning team, all of them with large, smug grins on their faces.

"Unbelievable!" the fire dragon exclaimed loudly. "Four back to back matches, and Team Slate is still king of the oval! These five young dragons sure know how to dominate the competition, don't they?"

A loud, animated cheer erupted in response, although behind the cheering Cynder could make out a number of voices jeering and booing instead, as though they weren't impressed by this team's monopoly of the arena. This didn't seem to faze the announcer in the slightest though, nor the five younger dragons.

"Is there anybody that can stand up against this powerhouse?" the fire dragon called out. "Does anyone here think they have what it takes to top that performance? Let's see if we can't get one more match underway in our little opener before the official games begin tomorrow! So who's up for the challenge? Remember, this is an entirely open event! No registration required. If you've got the stuff, then come on down here!"

"What?" Chinook blurted, straightening abruptly with a look of shock but also unmistakeable excitement growing in his eyes. "Is he serious? Anybody can play?"

"Sounds that way," Enigma remarked evenly.

"Come on, there has to be somebody!" the announcer pressed, almost tauntingly, as the crowd continued to cheer and shout but no volunteers stepped forward. "Anybody at all. Don't be shy."

"Over here!" Chinook shouted at the top of his lungs, jumping up on his hind legs and waving his forepaws and wings insistently. "We'll beat 'em!"

"Chinook, what are you doing?" Faren exclaimed, sounding panicked.

"Come on, guys, it'll be fun!" the grey dragon said eagerly. "We can definitely take those guys!"

"But Cynder and I have no idea how to play," Spyro protested.

"Actually, it doesn't look that difficult," Cynder said, meeting the purple dragon's gaze. "It's not really that different from the things we've done in our combat classes, except that we have a ball to keep track of. We've got plenty of experience there."

"She has a point," Enigma nodded.

Still Spyro looked doubtful. He glanced unsurely toward Cynder again, and the dragoness gave him a reassuring nod.

"It's just strategy," she told him firmly. "I think we can handle that."

Spyro held her gaze for a moment longer, but soon after it seemed that her steady gaze and her words had an effect. A determined fire lit in his eyes, and slowly a confident grin stretched across his muzzle. He turned his head up toward Chinook again, and the grey dragon waited hopefully.

"Alright," he said. "Let's do it."

A huge grin exploded across the wind dragon's muzzle. He turned back to face the announcer again and levelled a talon straight at him.

"You've got yourself a challenger!" he called out, and Cynder noticed that he used his wind powers to amplify his voice so that it rang out easily across the entire arena.

"Excellent!" the fire dragon exclaimed delightedly, gazing about at the crowd as they exploded into fervent cheering. "You heard him, everybody. We are going to have one more round! Gather your team, young dragon, and come on down here!"

"So who's playing?" Chinook asked, turning back to face his friends.

"I'm in," Spyro said without hesitation.

"Me too," Cynder declared immediately, locking gazes with Spyro briefly before giving Chinook a sharp nod.

Flash gave a small shrug before saying, "Might as well."

"Well, if Cynder's playing then there isn't much sense in me going too," Enigma told them. "Unless you're planning on poisoning the other team, there isn't too much to gain having two shadow users out there."

"Huh," Chinook grunted, becoming thoughtful. "That's a good point, since I doubt you guys will be allowed to use more than one element." Then he looked toward their remaining companion. "Faren?"

The red dragoness looked up quickly at the sound of her name, and a look almost akin to panic appeared in her eyes.

"Um..." she said a bit unsteadily, her gaze darting over the many hundreds of spectators all shouting and cheering at an almost deafening level. "I...I don't think so."

"You sure?" Flash asked her.

Faren nodded her head quickly, glancing once more toward the large crowds and curling her body inward in an almost defensive manner.

"Okay, that's fair," Chinook shrugged, knowing it was best not to pressure her. "So that's only four..."

There was a brief pause, but then all eyes turned toward Voltra, who until this point had been silent. She looked mildly surprised that they would consider her, being the newcomer to their group, but there was a glint of excitement in her eyes as well.

"You guys want me on your team?" she asked.

"Do you think you're up for it?" Chinook asked.

A huge grin immediately crossed the yellow dragoness's features, and she nodded sharply. "Absolutely! I can keep up, don't you worry about that."

"Great!" Chinook exclaimed. "Alright guys, let's go!"

"We wish you the best of luck," Hunter told them as they all stood.

"Pfft, who needs luck?" Chinook scoffed. "We've got two legends on our team."

"You and Spyro?" Flash asked with a half-smirk.

"Exactly."

"Oh, ha ha," Cynder snorted wryly. "In your dreams, cloud boy. Just try and keep up, okay?"

"No worries there," the wind dragon grinned confidently. "Now come on, they're waiting."

The other four nodded their heads, and together they jumped up off of the bench and glided down into the oval playing field, touching down halfway to the waiting announcer and their soon-to be opponents. At Chinook's suggestion Spyro took the lead, which seemed to be a smart move. The cheering from the crowd had already risen to a fever pitch at the sight of the purple legend making his way onto the field, head held high and a look of confidence on his face.

"Well, well, well, this is a very unexpected surprise!" the fire dragon announcer declared. "Dragons and dragonesses, free races of every kind, our challenger is none other than the purple dragon himself! I think we are in for a match to remember this morning! Let's get this game underway!"

A roar of approval rose from the stands, and grinning with pleasure the announcer took to the air with two mighty flaps and retreated to his own viewing platform beside the score- and timekeeper. At the same time the referee glided down to them, the bulky earth dragon alighting on the hard-packed field with enough force to shake the ground beneath them and fixing each one of the players in turn with a hard, studying gaze. A second later he turned his eyes on Spyro and Cynder specifically.

"You will only be permitted to use one of your elements each during this match," he told them gruffly, confirming Chinook's prediction. "What will they be?"

"Shadow," Cynder answered without delay.

The earth dragon nodded before turning his gaze squarely on Spyro. "And you?"

Spyro paused for a moment, glancing around at his teammates and their opponents as he considered his options. Then he met the referee's gaze again, a look of resolve in his eyes.

"Ice," he said.

Chinook shot the purple dragon a puzzled look, apparently surprised by the choice.

"Ice?" he asked quietly.

Spyro met his gaze with a level one of his own. "Like Cynder said: strategy."

The referee gave a low grunt in response to the purple dragon. "Very well then. As usual, I expect a clean, fair match out of all of you. No flying, no biting, no stabbing or undo clawing, and no direct elemental attacks of any kind, including furies. Understood?"

All ten younger dragons nodded their heads in reply. Satisfied, the powerful earth dragon responded in kind.

"Then prepare yourselves. Begin on the bell."

With that he spread his wings and leapt heavily into the air, powering his way back up to his lookout post above the field where he could see all that transpired. Once he had gone, the two teams turned to face each other, their faces set into challenging stares.

"Winning streak's over, boys," Chinook snickered with a cocky grin.

The earth dragon standing at the head of the other group, whom Cynder took to be Slate, snorted derisively.

"Legends and fame aren't going to help you here, runts," he growled with contempt. "This is our arena. Last chance to forfeit with your dignity intact."

Cynder felt a simmering anger seeping its way through her veins at the other dragon's arrogant tone, and she took a step forward so that she had closed the distance between her and the opposing captain to only a couple of feet.

"It's not us I would be worried about," she retorted dangerously.

Slate met her sharp glare with an even darker one. A thinly-veiled glint of hatred entered his stony brown eyes, and he lowered his head until his snout was inches from hers, a sneer stretching across his face.

"Do your worst."

Cynder maintained her glare, unmoving, and a few seconds later the earth dragon gave a loud huff and turned away to join his team, the group of five dragons padding away between the barricades that severely restricted their view of the opposing goal area. A moment later Cynder also turned around, rejoining her teammates who were gathered nearby.

"Alright, how are we doing this?" Voltra spoke up, glancing around at the others.

"I think the best way of handling this is just like our group combat training in the Temple," Chinook replied.

"You mean no fixed roles," Cynder offered. "Just adapt to the situation as it presents itself."

"Yeah, exactly," Chinook nodded.

Spyro and Flash both nodded their heads thoughtfully, considering the idea and seeming to like it. Cynder also felt that it was a sound strategy, the training that she, Spyro, Flash and Chinook had received providing them with a strong bank of experience and practice to draw from.

In the months since the battle of the Well of Souls, as work began to restore a steady program of education for the growing number of young dragons in the city, the Guardians had also had the idea to hold advanced training sessions in the Temple for those young dragons that showed exceptional promise to prepare them for any future dangers that may present themselves. Spyro and Cynder had obviously been the first two dragons to be admitted into this program, followed closely by Flash and Faren since the two of them had already proven themselves in combat against the grublins. A couple of other young dragons eventually followed as well, including Enigma, selected by the Guardians to try out for the special class after watching the more basic combat classes and deciding who showed the most potential. The most recent addition had been Chinook.

The training exercise that Chinook was referring to specifically was one the Guardians used to develop team-based awareness and thinking. A group of students would be thrown into a training arena with no instruction on what it was they would be facing, and it would be up to them once the exercise started to react to what they encountered and select the best plans of attack to deal with the threat. It forced the young dragons to always think flexibly, gradually training them to know by instinct how their companions would behave, who should act when, and what the rest should do to support them. It was difficult, but it proved to be very effective.

However, while this decision made sense to the four of them, it was clearly a confusing one for Voltra seeing as she wasn't in the Guardians' advanced training program, and she didn't hesitate to make her troubles known.

"Okay, I'm lost," she said. "What's the plan?"

"Gather in our goal area, and whoever's in the best position to go on the attack just takes the ball and runs," Chinook told her. "Everyone else supports."

"Alright," Voltra nodded, still a little uncertain. "And...how do we know who that is?"

"Just watch us," Cynder answered simply. "You'll catch on."

Still looking doubtful, Voltra searched for some sort of reassurance from the others. Eventually her eyes settled on Spyro, who promptly gave her a smile and a supportive nod.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," he said to her. "We'll watch out for you."

Voltra smiled gratefully at the purple dragon, looking as though his gentle words helped significantly in bolstering her confidence, and without further delay she began setting off toward their team's scoring area, following Flash who was already heading in that direction. As Cynder watched their exchange, for just a brief moment she couldn't help but feel that strange, wary sensation from earlier clawing at her again, but she quickly shook it off when she heard the referee call out loudly from the stands.

"Teams, at the ready!"

"Alright, let's go guys," Chinook said to them. "Just remember, you have to hit the ball with your element before you can touch it, and you can hit anybody on the other team if one of the balls is close by. Got it?"

"Got it," Spyro replied with a firm nod of his head. "Let's do this."

Chinook grinned widely. "Okay, hurry up. The match should be starting any second now."

Spyro and Cynder both nodded their heads, and together with Chinook they took off running in the direction of their goal area. A moment later they turned a bend around one of the larger barricades and their destination came into view ahead, Flash and Voltra already in position just outside the glowing magical ring in the ground. It was at that very moment that the referee's voice sounded out behind them.

"Begin!" the earth dragon roared.

There was a sharp, resounding toll as the referee struck a thick iron bell with his clubbed tail, and in response the crowd in the stands released a thunderous cheer as the game officially began. For a brief moment Cynder found herself in a sort of state of shock when she fully realized the situation she was in, out in front of this enormous crowd. This was _definitely_ not something she had been expecting when she and her companions had ventured into the city that morning.

She was shaken out of her daze when an odd sound and a flash of light called for her attention nearby, and Cynder looked over to see that the top of their team's pedestal had become occupied by one of the crystalline spheres. Immediately Flash leapt toward it, being the closest to it, and shot out a narrow beam of light from his jaws that hit the sphere dead centre, causing it to glow brightly with a harsh white light. The light dragon then jumped into the air and grabbed the ball in his forepaws before spinning sharply around.

"Chik!" he called, swinging his paws around and tossing the ball toward the wind dragon.

"Got it!" Chinook replied immediately, and with movements so smooth and purposeful he looked like a professional contestant he spat out a gust of air that intercepted the ball and turned its glow from white to pale grey. Without missing a stride he stretched out one of his large wings and caught the ball beneath it before taking off running as fast as he could toward the other end of the playing field, veering slightly to the right. A second later Flash zipped past Spyro, Cynder and Voltra and followed after his grey teammate, using his elemental power to turn himself invisible so that he could support the wind dragon while remaining unseen.

"I'm going to see what's up," Cynder told Spyro once Chinook passed into the tangle of barricades, disappearing from view except for the occasional sighting between stone walls after that.

"Alright," Spyro replied. "Let us know what you see."

Cynder nodded before sinking into the shadows and flitting away across the ground, reaching the barricades in only seconds and darting up the face of the tallest one within reach, emerging from the black mist of her power once she reached the top. From this vantage point she could see the entire playing field, and it only took her an instant to locate Chinook, who was just at that moment passing into the open stretch leading to the opposing team's goal area. Immediately the earth dragon and two fire dragons guarding it spread out to intercept him.

The wind dragon was no easy opponent to catch, however, and he made skilful use of his element to rocket himself along in an erratic pattern, drawing rapidly toward the glowing ring that marked the scoring area. The defenders did everything in their power to stop him, however, and a deep rumble reached Cynder's ears as earth and fire attacks burst forth to try and block Chinook's path. The wind dragon managed to keep ahead of them, but Cynder could tell that he was scrambling to accomplish this.

Just at that moment a wall of earth appeared in Chinook's path, forcing him to a sudden stop, and at the same time a fire dragon on his left prepared to leap at him to tackle him to the ground, but just before he could the air beside him shimmered suddenly, and faster than Cynder could blink Flash had appeared and rammed the fire dragon in the side, knocking him to the ground. Cynder grinned, pride and excitement budding within her, but those feelings were quickly replaced by worry when she saw Chinook become boxed in by the two remaining defenders. Flash skirted around and managed to distract the earth dragon with a blinding burst of light, but the remaining fire dragon still managed to head Chinook off moments before he reached the goal and slammed into him hard, knocking the ball from his grip and causing it to vanish once it hit the ground.

_So close_, Cynder growled inwardly.

The sound of paws thudding against the ground nearby suddenly caught her attention, and she looked down below to see that the other two members of the opposing team were weaving through the maze of stone blockages at a rapid pace. She immediately flattened herself against the stone beneath her before she could be spotted and studied their path, trying to anticipate where they were heading. Then, once she was confident she knew the route they would follow, she sank into the shadows again and rushed back into the clearing behind her. When she reappeared from the shadows she instantly caught Spyro's gaze. Without saying a word, she jerked her head sharply toward the left side of the field, and Spyro nodded in understanding before moving into a new position in the middle of the clearing, readying himself to defend their goal.

It was only a few seconds later that the two dragons burst into the open stretch of packed dirt and grass at reckless speed, heading straight for the goal area. Cynder reacted first, sprinting forward and aiming to intercept the other dragons' charge, but the earth dragon, Slate, saw her coming immediately and veered toward her to head her off while his yellow teammate surged ahead with surprising speed, carrying his team's ball under his wing. Cynder redoubled her own pace, determined not to let him score, but Slate clearly had other plans.

A broad pillar of earth suddenly burst up in Cynder's path, but the nimble dragoness simply leapt hard and sprang off of its right side, bypassing it with minimal delay and angling to pass Slate on his left side as he continued to charge straight for her. However, just at that moment a startled gasp escaped her when, just as she was about to step onto her right forepaw, the ground beneath it dropped abruptly. Agile as she was, she still couldn't correct in time to keep from stumbling. She fought hard to regain her footing and prevent herself from falling, and she nearly succeeded, but in that brief moment she left herself vulnerable, and before she could react Slate had driven his thick, curved horns hard into her left flank.

With a jolted cry she was launched sideways and hit the ground several metres away, landing in a rough heap and groaning as dull pain spread from her ribs. The crowd reacted with mixed cheers and groans of "Oooh," to the hit, but Cynder paid them no mind as she lifted her head and glared venomously at her larger assailant.

"You're not getting past me so easily, _general_," the heavyset grey-green dragon sneered contemptuously.

Cynder faltered briefly at the sound of her old rank under the Dark Master, but barely a second later her own snarl darkened, burning anger flaring in her veins. Clearly this was a dragon with a grudge, but whatever the particular reason for his anger was, Cynder wasn't about to let him get the upper hand over her.

A sharp crashing sound caused both of them to whip their heads around just in time to see a curved wall of towering, jagged pillars of ice materialize one huge spike after another in the electricity dragon's path, leaving him no route to take except back the way he had come, but apparently he had other plans. He spat out a vicious bolt of electricity from his jaws that slammed into the ice wall and tore a hole through it just large enough for the dragon to leap through, which he did without delay.

The instant he was clear of the ice wall, Voltra suddenly slammed into him from the side and drove him down to the ground with a startled grunt. He hit the earth hard with the dragoness on top of him, and the impact knocked the ball from his grip. An ice shard from Spyro knocked it away, and a second later it vanished in a bright flare of light. The crowd gave several tense exclamations at the close call, some cheering, some booing, but as it stood both teams had yet to mark a point.

"Better luck next time," Cynder said tauntingly, turning a hard gaze back at Slate as she rose to her paws.

The earth dragon gave a hard growl before turning sharply about and making for his own half of the field again, the electricity dragon following quickly after him once Voltra let him up. As they left Flash and Chinook appeared from the cluster of barricades, hurrying toward their companions. Then Spyro approached Cynder.

"You alright?" he asked, glancing over her quickly.

"Fine," Cynder grunted in reply, anger still edged into her voice, though she was grateful for the purple dragon's concern. "Don't worry, I can handle whatever that jerk can throw at me."

A small smile appeared briefly at the corner of Spyro's mouth. "I don't doubt it." Then his gaze shifted to the side as Voltra appeared beside him and he grinned. "Nice hit."

"Nice distraction," she replied, also grinning smugly. "That really worked well."

"Yeah, it did."

Voltra grinned again before bumping him on the shoulder with a forepaw. Then she turned and began walking back toward the goal ring. "Come on, the ball will be resetting any second."

Spyro nodded before facing Cynder again.

"Ready for another round?"

The black dragoness nodded her head firmly, determination in her eyes. "You bet I am."

Together the pair hurried back over to where the others were waiting, approaching them just as a flash of light signalled that another ball was ready on their pedestal. Immediately Chinook jumped up and threw it toward Spyro, who caught it after charging it with his ice breath.

"Cynder!" he called out immediately.

"I'm with you," was her automatic reply, and as the purple dragon took off running along the field she pulled ahead of him and veered to the left, ready to support him no matter what. Just as before, Flash followed closely after them, turning invisible once more. Over the barricades, Cynder could just catch a glimpse of the other team spreading out as they too began their charge. Just before disappearing into the stone maze she heard Chinook snicker to Voltra.

"Watch. This is going to be good."

The next half hour passed in a blaze of action and excitement. Just as they had seen from the match before, Slate's team pulled no punches as they attempted to dominate the contest with brute strength, and on several occasions Cynder and her teammates' attacks would end up running into a brick wall as the larger, stronger dragons barred them at every turn. At the same time the other team's blitz attacks pierced through their defence far too many times for Cynder's liking. However, unlike the last match, this time it wasn't anywhere near as one-sided as before.

What Spyro's team lacked in size, they made up for in experience and teamwork. Their time spent in gruelling training under the Guardians had formed them into a flawless unit, each dragon knowing by instinct where the others were at all times and what they were doing. Voltra was the only exception, but in very short order she proved herself to be a flexible team member that had no issues in adapting to the changing team dynamic around her, taking on whatever role was required of her with only the occasional hiccup. As a result, they were able to outmaneuver their opponents with just as much frequency as the larger dragons were able to power through their own lines.

One thing Cynder did notice was that the electricity dragoness seemed to perform the best when she was alongside Spyro. Their two playing styles blended together so fluidly that their partnership was as effective as only his and Cynder's had ever been before. She tried not to think about this, keeping her mind focussed on the game, but under the surface she could feel jealousy lurking again no matter how hard she tried to dispel it.

The scores climbed higher and higher as the game time drew ever closer to expiring. The crowd cheered and shouted with boundless vigour and enthusiasm as the thrilling contest played out before them, both teams evenly matched. As the game drew down to its final minutes, they were neck and neck.

"Alright!" Chinook cheered triumphantly as he, Cynder and Flash broke away from the other team's scoring area, where Flash had just barely managed to slip past the two fire dragons blocking his path to score a point, putting their team in the lead. "Okay, let's go guys! We've got this!"

Cynder couldn't help but grin with swelling excitement, the thrill of the game filling her being with energy, and with the wind dragon by her side she began looping around toward their own half of the field again, Flash doing the same opposite them. However, just at that moment, Slate and his earth dragon team mate appeared ahead of them from the barricades, and at the same instant their ball reappeared atop their pedestal.

Without wasting a second, one of the fire dragons jumped up and grabbed the ball from the pedestal with a flame-infused paw. The instant he hit the ground he leapt up high again and spun around in a tight circle, batting the ball hard with his tail and causing it to sail into the air. At the same time Slate and the electricity dragon surged forward while the second earth dragon intercepted the ball with a small bullet of his earth element, catching it in his wing a second later. Then the four dragons sped into the maze of barricades.

"Crap!" Chinook exclaimed. "We've got to head them off!"

"Go," Cynder ordered him immediately. "We'll try and slow them down while you warn Spyro and Voltra."

Chinook nodded his head in agreement, and a split second later he half-spread his wings and leapt into the air as hard as his legs could push him, a fierce jet of wind whipping up at the exact same instant and rocketing him up over the barricades with astounding speed. Meanwhile Cynder and Flash put on a fresh burst of speed of their own, determined to run their opponents down.

Flash reached the barricades first and sprinted into the maze without a second thought, disappearing from sight in an instant. When Cynder reached the thick barriers of stone she quickly dove into a patch of shadow and emerged a second later on top of the nearest wall. From there she began springing from one barricade to the next with sure-footed strides, overtaking her opponents within moments. Once she was ahead of them she dropped into the maze and veered hard to the left, angling to cut the other dragons off.

The electricity dragon never saw her coming. At the very moment that he glanced back over his shoulder through a gap in the walls around them to check on the ball carrier's progress, Cynder leapt in from the side and slid along the ground in a low crouch, swinging her tail around and taking the legs out from underneath her opponent. The yellow dragon gave a startled cry before falling flat on his face on the ground, rolling a few feet before stopping in a heap upside down against one of the walls. Grinning to herself, Cynder took off running in search of her next victim.

Flash got the next. When Cynder climbed back up to the tops of the barricades to survey the situation again she saw the white dragon over to her left, chasing the fire dragon down. The white dragon wasn't gaining, but he didn't need to in order to stop his quarry. Just at that moment the fire dragon angled sharply to the right to dodge through a narrow opening, only for his sprint to be brought to a crashing halt when he slammed headfirst into a solid stone barrier instead. As he collapsed dazedly to the ground Flash allowed the illusion he had conjured to fade, revealing that the so-called opening had never existed at all. That left only the two earth dragons.

They had almost reached the open stretch to the goal area by this point, and the two bulky dragons had regrouped so that they were running side by side. With a snarl Cynder charged after them, determined not to let them tie the score. She caught up to them quickly and dropped into the maze of barricades once more, narrowing in steadily on her targets.

They had only just come into sight ahead again when the earth dragon carrying the ball gave a startled cry as a wall of ice appeared in his path, forcing him to turn down the only remaining gap between stone walls. However, as soon as he did so he skidded to a halt and gave a panicked gasp when he saw Spyro barrelling toward him.

"Slate!" he shouted, launching the ball toward his teammate a split second before the purple dragon slammed into him, tackling him to the ground.

The other earth dragon looked up as the ball sailed toward him, adjusting his course to catch it, but Cynder wasn't about to let things go so easily for him. She leapt, ready to bring the other dragon down with all she was worth, but Slate reacted to her approach with surprising speed. Turning his head, he shot out an earth missile from his jaws and Cynder was forced to dive to the side to avoid it. Then, as she rolled back up to her feet, she looked back up only to receive the club of the earth dragon's tail in her face.

With a sharp cry Cynder was thrown down to the ground once more, her left cheek stinging bitterly where the spiked club had struck her. She was vaguely aware of the sound of Spyro calling her name. Then Slate raced past her while she was still down, laughing mockingly and catching the ball under his wing at the same time, and Cynder immediately felt a deep, blazing anger flood through her.

_So you want to play it that way, huh?_

With the ball tucked securely under his wing Slate put on a burst of speed for the goal ahead, easily brushing Chinook aside as the smaller wind dragon lunged at him. Before he could go any further, though, the ground beneath him suddenly erupted with writhing shadow and Cynder emerged from within their inky depths, ramming the earth dragon in the gut with her horns. Slate gave a strangled splutter and tumbled to the ground in a rough heap, severely winded, the ball slipping from his grip and vanishing a second later.

Cynder felt a swell of satisfaction bloom within her, but before she could celebrate her victory a sharp ring from the game bell sounded out over the roaring of the crowd. Everyone in the field looked up to see the referee dragon swooping down toward them, a deep scowl on his expression. He landed heavily beside Cynder and her earth dragon opponent, glaring down at the black dragoness before raising a wing high into the air.

"Elemental foul!" he called out in his gruff, booming voice. "Illegal use of an elemental attack. Team Spyro is penalized one point."

"What!?" Chinook blurted incredulously.

"But I didn't hit him with my element!" Cynder protested hotly. "The attack was physical. I just used my element to get into striking position!"

"The Shadow Strike is a well-known technique for users of shadow, employed as an _elemental_ offensive attack," the referee responded impatiently. "All sources list it as such. One point penalty to your team."

"But what about the earth missile he shot at Cynder?" Flash cut in with a brow raised questioningly.

"So long as the aim is not to attack an opponent directly, all elemental techniques are permitted, including use for interference. The penalty stands. Now, resume play."

The referee turned about and departed for the stands without another word. When he had gone, Slate chuckled derisively and rose to his feet, turning to rejoin his teammates in his own end of the field and shooting Cynder a leering smirk. Cynder snarled darkly as he left, anger and bitterness swirling within her. Then, once he had gone she turned back to see that her companions were watching her, and she let out a long sigh.

"Sorry, guys," she grumbled.

"Don't worry about it," Spyro told her immediately, and when she looked up to meet his gaze Cynder felt a small bit of comfort when she saw that his eyes held no anger or accusation, except for when he glared briefly at Slate. "It was just a mistake."

"Yeah," Chinook agreed, nodding with a half grin. "It was a crappy call anyway. Come on, we still have time to get it back."

As he spoke another ball materialized on their pedestal, and Voltra wasted no time in rushing over to it and grabbing it under her wing once it had been charged with her element. Without hesitating she sprinted forward, passing the others within seconds.

"Go!" Flash instructed the others firmly. "I'll cover our end."

Spyro, Chinook and Cynder all nodded, and together they took off running after Voltra as fast as their paws would carry them. Each of them used their elements to bypass as many obstacles as they could, Cynder ducking into shadows to pass over the barricades, Chinook using wind-powered leaps and Spyro forming ramps of ice whenever required. In this manner they caught up to Voltra in a matter of moments and formed a wedge in front of her, closing in quickly on the other team's goal area.

Their first opposition came when they were only metres from the edge of the stone maze. The electricity dragon and one of the fire dragons suddenly swooped in from the sides, trying to catch the group in a pincer between them, the fire dragon breathing out a screen of fire to block their path. None of the group of four slowed, Cynder and Spyro splitting off in unison to deal with their opposition. Cynder used shadow to slip behind the fire dragon before jumping up onto his back and using all her weight to drive his head into the ground. Spyro, meanwhile, used a pillar of ice to catapult himself at blinding speed at the electricity dragon, tackling him before he could even think of escaping. A gust of wind from Chinook cleared away the wall of fire, allowing him and Voltra to pass unimpeded while Spyro and Cynder regrouped with them.

Now out in the open, they found themselves once again under threat as their three remaining opponents converged on them. The remaining fire dragon shot forward, breathing out a thick screen of flames to try and block their path again, but before the fire had even travelled three feet it was suddenly swallowed up in a geyser of shadow fire that erupted in its path, the opposing forces cancelling each other out uselessly. On the other side of the clearing Slate's earth dragon teammate reared up with his forepaws glowing with bright green energy, preparing some sort of earth attack that would no doubt halt Voltra's charge in its tracks, but mere seconds before the earth dragon could strike Chinook leapt on a jet of wind and reached him in a flash, sweeping his hind legs out with his tail and causing the green dragon to fall flat on his back with a crash.

"Whoopsie," the wind dragon snickered. "Clumsy you."

Now only Slate stood in the way of the two remaining attackers, Spyro running close by Voltra's side as they drew ever nearer to the goal circle. However, at that moment Slate let out a throaty roar and slammed his clubbed tail hard against the ground. A towering wall of earth suddenly burst up in the charging dragons' path, blocking off the entirety of the width of the field in an instant. Cynder jerked back in surprise at the display of strength from the other dragon. Spyro was undaunted, however, and Cynder watched as he sprung ahead of Voltra, a glint of determination in his eyes.

"Keep going!" he called to her.

Voltra obeyed, maintaining her pace even despite the thick wall that loomed ahead of her, leaving her no possible route to the goal zone. Just then Spyro suddenly slid to a halt and drew in an enormous breath before shooting out a powerful beam of pure ice energy from his jaws. The beam of super-cooled energy was so cold that the moisture in the air around it instantly turned to snow, and when it struck the wall of earth the stone cracked violently from the thermal shock. Spyro's ice filled these cracks immediately.

The purple dragon cut off his beam of ice after another second, then reared up onto his hind legs and spread his forepaws apart as though he was pulling open a heavy double doorway, his jaws gritted from the effort. In response the ice in the cracks expanded rapidly, and with a tremendous rumble and crackling sound the stone wall was suddenly split in two, a broad section broken open by the strength of the spreading ice. Wasting no time, Spyro swung his paw again and created an opening in the section of wall that had become replaced by his element.

"Go now!" he shouted at Voltra.

She did just that. A wide, confident grin appeared on her features, and suddenly she put on a startling burst of speed, electricity coursing along her body and trailing along the ground behind her as she used her element to overcharge her muscles. In the blink of an eye she was through the opening in the ice and dashed toward the goal. Though Slate threw up barrier after barrier to cut her off, he couldn't keep up with her and the yellow dragoness sped past each one before it could form. Then, with a final leap, she passed into the glowing ring and the ball vanished into white light.

"Yeah!" Chinook cheered triumphantly. "We did it!"

"Come on, let's move!" Slate shouted at his teammates as they all scrambled to regroup. "There's still time for one more charge!"

He spun around and blasted the ball that had already formed on their pedestal with earth energy before grabbing it in his paws and hurling it to the electricity dragon, who intercepted it with a bolt of electricity and caught it easily. Without wasting a second he sprinted as fast as he could for the other end of the field, dodging the elemental blockades that Cynder, Spyro and Chinook scrambled to put in front of him.

"Come on, stop him!" Voltra called frantically. "Time is almost out! Just stop him!"

The electricity dragon laughed mockingly as he continued to evade their attacks, but just at that moment Cynder saw a glint of colour and looked up to see that Flash had appeared on top of one of the leading barricades of the maze. The electricity dragon faltered when he saw the light dragon standing over him, and a second later Flash's eyes flared with white energy and a beam of focussed light lanced out from his jaws. With a startled cry the yellow dragon spun frantically away from the beam. He stumbled, but he managed to get his feet under him again and took off running undeterred.

"Missed, sucker!" he called out gleefully.

"No I didn't," Flash retorted.

"Huh?" the electricity dragon said before glancing down at the ball he was carrying.

He gave a shout of panic when he saw that it was glowing brightly with white light from Flash's element instead of his own, but he had no time to do anything else before the ball detonated. The yellow dragon cried out as the flare of intense light engulfed him, and when he reappeared he was stretched out on his side on the ground, groaning weakly. A moment later two loud tolls of the bell rang out, and in response the crowd erupted into uproarious cheering.

"That's time!" Chinook exclaimed before punching his forepaws up into the air. "We did it!"

"We won!" Voltra squealed in delight, immediately grabbing on to Spyro in a tight embrace. "I don't believe it!"

Spyro's eyes bugged out, clearly startled by Voltra's unexpected action, but a second later he gave a small laugh. Cynder, meanwhile, found herself in a sort of daze as she watched the yellow dragoness release Spyro, conflicted feelings surfacing within her once more.

"Way to go team!" Voltra said brightly, turning to face Chinook. "Hi-paw."

Chinook grinned and raised a forepaw at the same time that Voltra did, smacking the pad of it against hers firmly. She immediately moved to Flash, and the white dragon did the same as Chinook without hesitation, a large smile on his face as well. Then she stepped up to Cynder, but she faltered when she saw the strange look the black dragoness was giving her, though only momentarily. Then a wry smile pulled at her lips.

"Come on," she urged teasingly, holding her forepaw up.

Cynder paused for another moment, studying the other dragoness, but then despite herself a small smile forced itself onto her muzzle, and she shook her head with a resigned chuckle. Then she lifted her paw and slapped it against Voltra's.

"Alright!" Voltra grinned, and Cynder snorted and shook her head again. Just then they all looked up as the announcer dragon from before strode out to them, beaming.

"Congratulations, all of you," he told them. "Since there are no other challengers, that makes you the champions of our little tournament today! If you want it, you just got yourselves reserved arena-side seats for the official matches starting tomorrow for you and any of your friends."

"Awesome!" Chinook exclaimed, excitement shining in his wide blue eyes. "Thanks!"

"Don't mention it," the fire dragon chuckled. "I should be thanking you for putting on such a performance out there. Word of this will be spreading all over the city. You sure were moving out there. Looked like fun."

"It was great," Voltra nodded, glancing around at the others who nodded as well.

"Glad to hear it. Alright, well remember, prime seating for tomorrow if you want it. Enjoy your day, now."

With that the fire dragon turned about and took to the air, returning to the stands. When he had gone, Chinook let out a low whistle.

"Well, that's a pretty good way to start the day, I think," he chuckled.

"No kidding," Flash nodded. "But now I'm beat." He then paused as a low rumbling sound rose from his stomach, drawing the gazes of everyone. "And hungry."

"Now that you mention it, me too," Chinook grinned. "How does a victory lunch sound to all of you?"

"Sounds pretty good," Spyro replied. "That match burned through my breakfast in no time."

Cynder couldn't help but chuckle at that remark, shooting the purple dragon a wry smirk. "Just unbelievable. Between the appetite and the morning laziness, I can't understand how you stay in shape."

"Must be another perk of being purple," Spyro grinned, causing Cynder to give a small snort and roll her eyes.

"Okay, so food it is then," Chinook declared happily. "Come on, let's go see if there's any room in the Great Hall."

The others were all in agreement, and together they turned and began making their way back toward the stands where Hunter, Meadow, Enigma and Faren were waiting. As they walked Cynder moved to pull up beside Spyro, but she faltered when Voltra appeared there instead, grinning up at the purple dragon and appearing unaware that she had just cut the black dragoness off.

"You know, we make a pretty good team," she remarked brightly.

Though she didn't entirely know why, those words jolted Cynder. As she trailed after her companions, watching as Spyro turned a smile toward the other dragoness, a strange sort of anxiety formed in the pit of her stomach, one that left her feeling confused and conflicted.

And while she felt silly for it, she couldn't help the thought that entered her mind then.

_But that's what we're supposed to be._..

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**Uh oh, now what's going on here...? {:(**

**Well, finally, a little snippet of action, even if it's nothing major. And if you're feeling like this story is getting off to a bit of a slow start, don't worry, the main plot-line's gonna be getting underway before too much longer. Remember, the first real critical battle didn't happen until chapter 12 in book 1, so just bear with me. :)  
**

**Dunno how much longer the next chapter is going to take me, but hopefully it won't be a month. X) We'll just have to see how things work out.  
**

**Big thanks to all of you reviewers. Your feedback is enormously appreciated as always, so don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts! :)  
**

**Until next time...  
**


	6. Chapter 6: Reprieve

**Hello everybody! Update time! :D**

**Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. Enjoy!**

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_Chapter 6: Reprieve_

Within the vaulted interior of the Temple's assembly hall, an air of heavy formalism dominated the normally warm, albeit sometimes imposing space. A heavy table of stone sat within the centre of the large chamber, around which were gathered an assortment of creatures. All those present were currently engaged in a discussion of great seriousness and importance, despite the fact that it had been organized to be little more than a friendly conversation-opener between their differing races.

Sirius tried his utmost to appear poised and collected as he sat on the right side of Volteer at the table, the other two Guardians placed to the electricity dragon's left. He thought he succeeded, but it was difficult to be sure given the nerves that were playing within him. This was by far the most important event he had ever participated in, and he was almost desperate to prove himself worthy of being there to his colleagues, and to himself.

"We do not doubt that renewing the alliances that once existed between our races would be beneficial," one of the delegates standing across the table from the Guardians—a griffin with luxuriant brown plumage flecked with streaks of black, dark grey fur on its hindquarters and intelligent brown eyes—said regally. "All we are saying is that given the recent turmoil that has plagued these lands, we must take into consideration the potential costs as well."

"To what costs might you be referring?" Cyril replied, his tone calm and level, although Sirius thought he detected a veiled suspicion within it as well.

"Not to speak offensively, but it is a historical fact that you dragons are rather prone to conflict," another delegate—this time a proud snowy owl with grey-streaked white feathers and piercing golden eyes—commented. The owl sat perched upon the edge of the table with its aide, a brown and grey great horned owl, beside it. Both birds held themselves with postures of authority despite the fact that they were barely larger than the moles. "In the past, while all of our races have shared strong friendships with your kind, it cannot be denied that our darkest times were a result of battles in which dragons were a central player."

Sirius felt his brows knit slightly together at these words, but he maintained his silence. He had listened to the conversation taking place around him intently, but he had contributed little to it up to this point, offering only small comments from time to time when he felt it appropriate. Although technically he was there as an equal with everyone else, the fact of the matter was that he was the youngest—and therefore least experienced—representative in the room, and so his unspoken place was to listen and learn, not participate actively. This he had done, familiarizing himself with the intricate process that was diplomatic discussion. He may have been a full Guardian in title, but that didn't mean his time as a student was over.

"I will not deny that over the ages we dragons have seen more than our share of violence and war," Terrador conceded, his deep baritone voice rattling the still air in the chamber. "Even caused such conflicts from time to time. However, the fact cannot be ignored that many of our battles have been in the defence of the balance in our world. If I am not mistaken, it was little more than two hundred years ago that the dragons flew to your aid in the far Eastern Islands against the wyverns, councillor."

"Indeed, just as we griffins came to yours in that accursed war against the Dark Master before that," the leading griffin representative countered without flinching. "And that travesty cost our race dearly in good lives, just as it did yours."

A short silence followed as everyone in the room considered their next words. Sirius studied his mentors' expressions closely, wondering how they would react to the griffin's verbal jab, but they showed hardly any reaction at all, not even Cyril. He knew a little about these formal discussions from his father, and from his understanding this was all just a part of the elaborate dance that such proceedings entailed, the participants' moves carefully calculated to judge the balance of the field. However, deciphering that balance now was something he was still somewhat uncertain about.

"We would be wise to bear in mind that we must not let the past generations of turmoil and conflict limit our perception only to the theoretical gains versus expenditures relational to a long term military association when considering a mutual pact of friendship, cooperation and support," Volteer commented at a startling pace. "All alliances regardless of time, location, race, culture, motivations or desires require a broad foundation built upon many levels of sharing and infrastructure if they are to withstand the trials, difficulties, and quarrels that are liable to present themselves over any span of time..."

Sirius thought he saw Cyril roll his eyes almost imperceptibly as the ever-energized yellow Guardian broke off into one of his tireless monologues. He thought he noticed similar expressions on a number of the other dignitaries present in the chamber as well, for this wasn't the first time during the conference that Volteer had launched into such ramblings. As the Electricity Guardian rattled on in almost blissful ignorance of the impatient looks he was receiving, Sirius took this opportunity to scan the faces of the other representatives again, subconsciously calling up everything the other Guardians had taught him about their kinds over the past several weeks.

First on his right were the four mole ambassadors, all of whom were members of the mole senate located in Warfang, which was not only the dragons' greatest city, but which served as the unofficial capitol of the moles as well. The four stout, furry creatures held themselves with proud, straight postures, dressed in colourful silk robes and with their thin fur groomed to perfection, making for an impressive image despite their...erm..._short_comings in stature.

He had learned much about the moles during his time living and studying in Warfang, and he was thoroughly impressed by them as a culture. Warfang was by far the largest city that their kind could call home, but they also had a great many smaller villages arrayed all across the lands, sharing the dragons' territory freely while their own borders extended far beyond them as well. Some of these villages were simple farming communities, while others were much more developed. Their skills in masonry, craftsmanship and metalworking were renowned across the lands, making up for their lacks in physical strength with ingenuity and tenaciousness.

"...Indeed, if every civilization that ever sought to forge strong, long-lasting and secure associations with their neighbours was so ignorant and narrow-minded as to consider only the perpetuation of power and strength, no alliance would ever last a decade, let alone the centuries and millennia that some of our races have spent in mutual cooperation..."

Next to the moles were the owl ambassadors, whom Sirius had acknowledged moments ago. The owls were also a widespread race, although not so populous as the moles. They were among the few sentient species of birds, and arguably the strongest. Some of the only others were the phoenixes, known for their legendary wisdom, and the falcons that the cheetahs employed as scouts and messengers, who possessed keen intelligence but couldn't speak in the Common tongue. The owls' inclusion in the Greater Races was more on account of their value as observers than anything. They moved stealthily, and there was little that they didn't see, making them invaluable informants and also lending to a degree of wisdom from witnessing the ways of the world. It was usually prudent to heed the words of the owls.

"...and furthermore, the propagation and sharing of knowledge and learning is undoubtedly of far greater value in the larger scheme of things than military agreements. Why, I recall that during the days of famine that wrought such devastation and havoc amongst the goats and the mole farmers, it was not armies that kept social collapse under the influence of hunger at bay..."

Meanwhile, to the left of the Guardians stood the cheetahs; Prowlus, Hunter, and Meadow, Hunter making a rare appearance without his quiver and bow slung across his back—he had left them in the care of the Temple's mole attendants, who had promised him to take excellent care of the weapons. While the cheetahs alone weren't considered one of the Greater Races, as a collective with the other feline tribes across the lands they were. Sirius had been slightly surprised that no other feline races had sent representatives for this conference, but he supposed that perhaps the fact that the cheetahs lived in such close proximity to Warfang in comparison to the other tribes was a factor.

"...which actually brings to mind an interesting subject. I've heard recently that the goats have only just developed a new, innovative, ingenious technique of irrigation for their inland crops. It may be in the best interest of everyone, both practically and in the pursuit of research and academia, to see if they won't elucidate and otherwise illuminate our understanding of the procedure..."

The final race currently represented at the conference—since the wolves had deigned not to make an appearance—was of course the griffins. Sirius's gaze quickly took in the griffin councillor and his two aides, the councillor bearing a thick golden pendant around his feathered neck and all three of the hybrid creatures carrying themselves with an air of pride and importance that bordered on arrogant, which actually reminded Sirius of Cyril when he thought about it.

Although not an unsavoury or unlikeable race by nature at all, the griffins did often hold themselves as the 'elite' of the Greater Races. Noble and strong, they were the most secluded of the gathering's species and preferred to avoid any more involvement in the matters of the other races than was necessary. As allies they were nothing if not dependable, however, and fierce in combat. Aside from this, their intelligence was certainly noteworthy, and their wealth was legendary. Myths abounded of momentous hoards of treasure that the griffins guarded with unwavering devotion in the heart of their territory.

At that moment it finally seemed that the other Guardians had heard enough of Volteer's ramblings. Cyril glanced toward his colleague and cleared his throat airily, causing Volteer to falter in his narrative.

"Er, ahm, uh, yes?" the yellow dragon stammered.

"This is all quite fascinating, Volteer, but is there perhaps a point coming soon?" Cyril asked with thinly-masked exasperation.

"Oh?" Volteer responded, cocking his head slightly to the side. "I was of the impression that it had been made, and I was merely elaborating for the benefit of clarity and thoroughness."

"Wonderful," Cyril said. "Then perhaps we can resume our business."

"I'm not sure there's much to gain at this point," Prowlus interjected gruffly, his arms crossed over his chest in what Sirius thought had become the characteristic posture of the cheetah chief. "It seems clear that no one is ready yet to move forward with any kind of alliances while doubts still exist about the stability of our world."

"Be fair now, Chief Prowlus," the leading mole dignitary said. "These talks have only just begun."

"But he does raise a point worth exploring," the snowy owl commented. "While there has been no fighting for over five months now, there are whispers circulating of unrest that still lingers. Is it not true that even now the Guardians are training the young purple dragon as though you expect him to fight a war tomorrow?"

"Yes, we have also heard rumours," the griffin councillor nodded, shuffling his wings. "You wouldn't have some reason for this precaution that you have not shared, would you?"

Sirius turned his gaze quickly toward his three teachers—no, colleagues, he corrected himself. His mind flashed back to the tale Spyro and his friends had related about the fight in the Well of Souls, but the Guardians showed no indication of unease.

"Young Spyro's training is simply a matter of maintaining preparedness," Terrador replied evenly. "Even those who enjoy peace have a responsibility to be ready to defend it."

"And besides," Volteer added, "it is entirely voluntary on his part. He has shown nothing but eagerness to be educated in whatever knowledge we have to offer him."

"Yes, the boy has an admirable drive for learning," Cyril declared proudly. "A remarkable young dragon, that one."

"Sounds familiar," the brown owl muttered just loudly enough for Sirius to overhear.

All heads turned toward the powerful bird, and several brows rose inquisitively.

"Something troubles you?" Meadow asked in a measured tone.

"I am only saying, this is how things all started the last time," the owl answered flatly. "The Dark Master may very well have not grown as powerful as he did if the Guardians of the time hadn't taught him so much so quickly."

A grim silence fell over the gathering, many of the delegates exchanging wary glances. The snowy owl shot his subordinate a stern gaze, but to Sirius it seemed more that the rebuke was meant for the tactlessness with which he had spoken, and not for the sentiment. Sirius himself bristled inside, and he wanted to snap, 'Hey, that's my friend you're talking about!' However, he held his tongue.

"Rest assured, we keep this fact in mind," Terrador told the owl firmly, which caused Sirius to give the elder dragon a mildly surprised look. "His teaching is regulated appropriately."

"What he is taught is in accordance to what we Guardians agree he is ready to learn," Cyril added. "Not what he might demand to know. Young Spyro has been most agreeable with this arrangement to date anyway."

"And we do not expect that to change in the future," Volteer added.

"Indeed," Terrador nodded. "He has earned nothing but our trust, as it should be with all of you as well, given what he has done for everyone already in his few years."

"Of course," the griffin said with a bob of his head, his expression masked.

"No harm in expressing a concern," the snowy owl added, briefly ruffling his feathers. "Just so long as you keep an eye on him."

The Guardians merely nodded. After that another short pause resided in the chamber as all of the representatives contemplated their next moves in silence. Then, a moment later, one of the mole ambassadors glanced up toward the line of windows high in the wall overhead, judging the light of the sun that streamed through them.

"Well, perhaps we should adjourn for a brief recess from this musty room," he suggested. "It is a fine day out there, and there is much to see still in the city."

"An excellent idea," Volteer agreed, and Sirius noted the slight roll of his shoulders that betrayed his growing stiffness from their prolonged lack of movement, a feeling he was beginning to share. "Is anyone opposed to taking a short break from this discussion?"

No one voiced any disagreements, and so it was decided that they would resume their proceedings after an hour's respite. With unhurried steps the various representatives began making their way to the exits of the assembly hall, some of them conversing quietly amongst themselves, others remaining silent as they departed. The Guardians remained still, however, and Sirius remained with them, suspecting that they wished to discuss matters in private, as the other representatives would no doubt be doing as well. However, before such discussion could happen, they were interrupted by Prowlus, Hunter and Meadow stopping near them on their way past.

"I just wanted to give you warning, before you started getting the wrong impressions," Prowlus grunted to the dragons. "While we'll remain for the duration of these talks, don't expect us to be signing on for any formal alliances just yet."

Sirius and the other Guardians looked down at the red-furred cheetah in surprise.

"Is there some reason that you wish to remain unassociated?" Terrador asked curiously.

Prowlus shrugged. "You don't have to worry about us blocking your city out if you ever have need of our help again, if that's what you are thinking. But as only one part of the Nation of Feline Tribes, we can't take it upon ourselves alone to announce formal allegiances either. So, we'll stick around for the talks, but don't expect any commitments."

"Hmm," Terrador grunted thoughtfully, studying the chief. "Very well then. We appreciate you taking the time to inform us."

Prowlus gave a stiff nod before turning away and marching at a brisk pace for the chamber's nearest exit. Hunter and Meadow inclined their heads respectfully to the four Guardians before following after their leader, murmuring quietly to each other as they departed. Only a few short moments later, the four dragons were alone.

"An interesting development," Volteer commented after a brief pause to ensure that no stragglers were present to overhear the dragons' conversation. "Previously I had hypothesized that the cheetahs were a relatively certain prospect for advancing into a formal union."

"It is a bit of a surprise," Terrador nodded. "But not entirely, really. Recent news has stated that the felines are still fragmented after so long spent in conflict against the Dark Master and his forces. I doubt they'll be looking to establish serious relations with any of their neighbours before they restore order within their own nation."

"Still, I thought we would have had more progress with the others," Sirius spoke up, glancing around the empty table. "They all seem a lot more reserved about this whole thing than I was expecting."

"Heathens," Cyril huffed frostily. "Daring to impugn our honour as dragons by suggesting that we are a volatile race. Just because we have taken it upon ourselves to act as peacekeepers in the realms when everyone else was too concerned about their own wellbeing, does not mean we actively seek to throw the world into upheaval."

"No, but one must admit that upheaval does still find us frequently," Terrador sighed. "It is no wonder really that our numbers have been declining bit by bit over the course of this last age."

"It is merely the natural cycle of things," Volteer said dismissively. "By the laws of history, any civilization will grow and recede periodically with the passing of time. War has thinned us out, but now that the world is eager for peace we will grow again."

"Yes, I suppose with any luck you're right there, old chap," Cyril conceded with a long sigh. "At any rate, I'm starting to find these bare stone walls to be a bit on the oppressive side. I don't know about the rest of you, but I think I will make a few rounds of the courtyards to stretch out these old joints."

"An excellent idea, Cyril," Volteer piped in eagerly, rolling his shoulders backward to try and work the stiffness out of his spine. Sirius cringed slightly when he heard a series of audible pops from aged bones. "The fresh air will also help ensure that all our faculties are refreshed and at full alertness for when our discussions resume. It would be foolish and irrational not to capitalize on this passing opportunity."

"Volteer, I think that may be a new record for the most long-winded 'I'll join you' ever uttered in our history," the Ice Guardian said as he rose to his paws. Then he turned his frosty blue eyes on Terrador and Sirius. "Will you two be coming as well?"

"I think I will remain here for a while longer," Terrador replied, shaking his head. "I want to see if I can't use this pause to brainstorm on ways of breaking through these barriers between our races."

Cyril gave an unconcerned shrug. "Suit yourself."

"And will you be coming, Sirius?" Volteer inquired quickly.

"Um," the young Fire Guardian said uncertainly, glancing indecisively between his colleagues. "No, I think I'll stay too and see what help I can be."

"Very well. Most admirable, commendable, estimable. Well then, Cyril, shall we?"

"I suppose so," Cyril nodded. "Lead on."

Sirius watched as the two elder dragons turned about and departed through one of the arched stone doorways, disappearing into the corridor beyond. The sound of Volteer's endless chatter floated back into the assembly hall even long after the two Guardians had disappeared from sight.

When the voices of Cyril and Volteer at last faded into the distance, Terrador let out a long, slow breath before also rising to his feet. However, instead of moving toward one of the main exits from the chamber the lumbering earth dragon instead made for a smaller doorway at the back of the circular room. Without pause Sirius rose and followed him.

Terrador reached the doorway a moment later, and with one forepaw he pushed it open easily. This was the only doorway within the chamber that was closed, instead of simply being an open archway to the corridors beyond. Instead it was almost always sealed by a meticulously polished oak door, serving to shield the room within from prying eyes. Wordlessly, the Earth Guardian slipped through the doorway and again Sirius followed.

Inside was a small-ish private meeting chamber, meant to be a secure place where the Guardians could discuss important matters without worry of interruption or being overheard by unwelcome ears. In terms of furnishings it was quite basic, giving it a cozy feel more than an official one.

A low wooden table sat in the room's centre, occupying the middle of a plain circular rug. A shelf sat against the back wall, holding a small assortment of books, maps, and official documents—although nothing of a sensitive nature. More such documents and pieces of parchment sat upon the table, as well as a number of candles for extra illumination when needed. The scent of old candle wax hung lightly in the air, and as he breathed it in Sirius was briefly transported back to his evenings spent as a younger dragon, studying in his family's room while his father laboured over Eastern City council documents.

As Terrador moved to sit at the table, Sirius paused and felt his eyes get drawn up toward the back wall of the room, where brackets set into the stone held the four ornate Relics of the Guardians on proud display. The polished crystals atop each of the relics glowed brightly, Cyril's radiating a fine, icy mist, Volteer's crackling softly with small arcs of white electricity, and Terrador's ringed by fragments of glowing green soil and stone. He did notice that the glow on his own relic was brighter than that of the others, betraying the fact that while the three Guardians may still be strong, wise, and unequaled masters of their elements, they were not dragons in their prime anymore, and just as with the light of their relics, they would eventually fade.

He shook himself out of these thoughts when the sound of Terrador shifting caught his attention, the earth dragon's mace-like tail club creating a low grinding sound as it dragged briefly across the floor. Sirius looked over to see that the other Guardian was leaning over a wide, wrinkled map of the Dragon Realms and much of the regions beyond, but he seemed to be having difficulty finding a position that let him view the map without his shadow blocking the light from the torches on the walls. Wordlessly, Sirius lifted a forepaw toward a small cluster of candles sitting on the table near his mentor and gave a nudge with his power. The three candle wicks flared to life immediately.

"Ah, thank you," Terrador rumbled, glancing up only briefly to flash his younger associate a grateful smile. Then he returned his attention to the map, now illuminated by the warm glow of the candles, and his brow creased in contemplation.

Sirius moved around to sit beside the larger dragon, gazing down at the map curiously as well. Upon it a number of key cities and regions spread amongst various races were marked, and notes had been scribbled in Draconic runes on a haphazard pile of parchments to the side. Currently Terrador's gaze was drifting back and forth between the map and the notes, his expression distant.

"It makes one think, doesn't it?" he asked suddenly without lifting his eyes, his voice quiet but still strong in that small space. "So often we dragons can see ourselves as a great force of this world, what with our strength and our powers, but really we are just one small piece of something so much more vast and complex than we can really comprehend."

Sirius glanced up at the other Guardian, caught somewhat by surprise by this comment, but as he looked down at the map again and saw the multitude of territories, nations, cultures and landscapes that surrounded the Dragon Realms on all sides he realized that Terrador had a point. He had always considered their civilization to be one of the great powers of the world—and in many ways it was—but when he looked down at it on that faded piece of parchment, it didn't really look all that big.

"How much of it have you seen?" he asked his mentor a moment later, becoming curious.

This time it was Terrador's turn to be surprised, but then he gave a small chuckle and looked down at the map again.

"Not as much as some, but I have certainly witnessed my share during my years as a Guardian," he said, a look of reminiscence in his eyes. "My duties kept me within our borders most of the time, but they would take me to places I'd never expected to visit as well. I have walked the halls of the grand palace in the griffins' Arcadacean Isle; I have attended the Atlawa's grand banquets during the summer solstice; and I have duelled with the sea serpents of the Western Gulfs. It certainly makes you appreciate the many diversities in this world."

The elder dragon released a long, slow sigh, his expression turning distant once more as his mind wandered back to old memories. Sirius remained silent for a time, allowing the other dragon to recall past times, but then another question rose to his mind and he cleared his throat, earning him the earth dragon's attention once more.

"So, were things any better between the other races back then than they are now?"

Terrador gave a small, wry chuckle and shook his head. "No. With the skirmishes against the apes rising constantly in intensity, and later the official war, the other races were more inclined to separate themselves from us than anything, unwilling to get caught up in another conflict. Efforts were made to maintain a neutral relationship between us, but the alliances had already failed before my time. Since then, this world has been divided."

He gave another sigh at these words, but this time it was tinged with more regretful sentiments, and something about Terrador's bearing caused Sirius to pause uncertainly. During the time that he had known the Earth Guardian so far he had always seen Terrador as a strong, firm, unflappable leader who was always determined and eager to do everything in his power to protect the balance of their world. Now, however, he saw something in the large green dragon that he hadn't before: weariness. Sirius realized that the many years of war must have worn the other Guardian down tremendously, but even now that the war was over there was no rest for him or the others as they began the long, arduous process of rebuilding a world that was still struggling to put itself back together. It was a sobering realization, and it left him feeling a bit unnerved, though he tried to push it aside.

"Well, what do you think we can do to help reassure them about us?" Sirius asked after another pause. "Is there anything that we can offer them as a gesture of friendship?"

"I'm certain there is," Terrador nodded. "It is something we can bring up once the talks resume, but until then, perhaps you wouldn't mind helping me in going over some of these reports our envoys brought back from their visits to our neighbours? They might provide us with some insight that we missed before."

"Of course," Sirius nodded, shifting closer to one of the stacks of parchments that the Earth Guardian indicated.

They worked quietly for a time, scanning through the envoys' accounts with keen focus and commenting on anything of potential importance that they found. They weren't as thorough as they could have been, given the limited time they had before the dignitaries returned for the next round of discussion, but they tried to be certain that they didn't miss anything of value either. The whole while Sirius did his best to suppress his restlessness; this sort of work was not at all his favourite, but he made no complaints regardless.

_Being a Guardian isn't all glory and excitement_, he reminded himself, and he had known full well what he was getting himself into when he agreed to train as Ignitus's apprentice.

Even so, he was silently grateful when a knock on the wooden door interrupted the two Guardians from their task, causing the fire dragon to look up toward the entranceway curiously.

"Come in," Terrador called without pause, his baritone voice piercing through the thick wooden door with ease.

The door swung open, and through it stepped two large, powerful dragons wearing plates of highly-polished armour. One was a deep earthy green in colour and was very solidly built, looking as though he didn't really need the petrified wooden armour that he wore and only doing so out of convention, while the other was of a leaner, more slender build. He had misty-grey scales covering his body, his chest and horns of a darker grey more reminiscent of storm clouds. His large, broad wings bespoke of great prowess in the air, while the thin, spiked off-white frills running down his neck, back, tail and forelegs gave his appearance a more dangerous edge. His silver armour with deep blue accents was light and looked better suited for a scout than a guard, but it fit his appearance well. His face was partially obscured by the simple helm he wore, but even so his sharp grey eyes gazed out with piercing intensity.

"Master Terrador," the earth dragon rumbled in his strong, low voice, inclining his head respectfully. "Master Sirius."

"Captains," Terrador replied with a similar bob of his head, glancing between the two guards before his eyes settled on the speaker. "What can we do for you?"

"We've come to give our regular report, sirs," the earth dragon, Raulk, replied immediately. "What with General Mason occupied with the mole guards' demonstration on the walls, he instructed that we were to report to you since he would be unable to pass word along in a timely manner."

Sirius was a bit surprised by this revelation, but then he recalled seeing on the events schedule for the city that Mason and his elite mole troops were indeed slated for a public defence demonstration along the ramparts of the city's northern wall. It was the first time in centuries that the general public had been allowed in such areas. There had been a bit of a row involved when the mole general had informed the Guardians of his wish to fire one of the catapults during the event for the public's entertainment, which made the event stick in Sirius's memory.

Mason's new rank was just one of the many transformations that the city's Guard forces had undergone in the five months since the battle against Nexus and his grublins had come to a close. At that time the Guard had all operated as a single force under Mason's command, but as more and more dragons began returning to the city from hiding and recruits began adding to the Guard's numbers an expansion had been required. Now there were three divisions; the moles, which still comprised by far the largest percentage of the Guard's numbers, commanded by Mason and a number of subordinate officers of his choosing, and two dragon Guard divisions captained by the two guards standing before Sirius and Terrador now, each of them composed of just over four dozen dragons and each reporting directly to Mason, who in turn reported to the Guardians.

Raulk had been an obvious choice as a captain, given his previous experience in command of the Northern City's Guard forces, but finding a candidate for the second position had been something more of a challenge. Eventually Mason had suggested that a tournament be held to decide the most worthy dragon for the position. It had been a close contest, but the wind dragon before them had been the undisputed winner.

"I see," Terrador nodded in understanding as he took in this information from Raulk. If he was at all annoyed by this deviation from procedures that had interrupted their work, he didn't show it. "Very well. What news do you have?"

"Well, for the most part everything is going smoothly," Raulk began. "Despite the crowds our guards have encountered only minimal difficulties on their rounds, and for the time being everything checks out. Perimeter patrols also report no concerns."

Terrador nodded his head approvingly, looking pleased to hear this news, and Sirius also found that he was a bit relieved. What with how packed full the city was with visitors he had almost been expecting more troubles to develop, but so far in the festival there had been no signs of such disturbances.

However, just at that moment Sirius noticed that despite Raulk's promising report, the other guard had a mild scowl on his features and it looked as though he was trying to hold back some sort of scathing remark. The young Fire Guardian felt his brows furrow slightly with suspicion, and it seemed that Terrador also quickly picked up on this anomaly.

"Something to add, Captain Boreas?" the earth dragon inquired.

The wind dragon hesitated, casting a quickly glance over at Raulk, but eventually he gave a small huff and shook his head.

"No, sir. On the whole, everything is in order."

Terrador didn't appear satisfied, and a look of suspicion entered his gaze as he leaned forward across the table.

"Now, Captain, I can see that there is something you wish to say. Out with it."

Again the captain hesitated, but then he released a quiet sigh and closed his eyes as he organized his thoughts. Scarcely seconds later he opened them again and stared stiffly ahead as he spoke.

"While all in all the situation within the city is sound, I feel that we would be remiss to disregard what disturbances there have been."

"Like what?" Sirius said inquisitively.

Boreas didn't shift his gaze as he replied, "So far this week my units have been required to intervene in five brawls that have occurred within the city, mostly occurring at various events and contests. Mostly they are minor, with only one of them resulting in injury before it could be broken up. Still, the city's visitors appear to be growing unruly as the festivities continue."

"It is to be expected," Raulk interjected unconcernedly. "After so many years of war it is not surprising that the populace has become excitable during the celebration. Such incidents are quickly handled."

"In addition, four days ago a squad was forced to take action when an illicit trade operation of fury gems was discovered within the eastern district."

This got Terrador's attention, his eyes widening marginally in surprise. "Fury gems?"

Boreas nodded stiffly. "One of the perpetrators was apprehended and is currently incarcerated in the city's dungeon, but searches are still in progress for his partner and we are having difficulty tracking down what gems are still in circulation."

"Was it a large operation?"

"Small enough, but still something that I feel should be dealt with as swiftly as possible."

Terrador nodded thoughtfully, and Sirius watched him carefully as he considered this development. While he doubted that any serious troubles might arise from this, fury gems in the wrong paws could still be a problem.

"Thank you for informing us of this," Terrador said finally. "Raulk, are your units involved in the searches for these gems?"

"Not presently, sir," Raulk replied with a small shake of his head. "Captain Boreas has not requested any support from my division in regards to this operation."

"I understand. Regardless, see if you can't coordinate anything with his forces to contain the situation."

Neither guard gave any reply, glancing quickly in each others' direction, but Terrador didn't press them any further. Instead his gaze drifted downward to the pages arrayed before him, although it didn't really seem like he saw them, instead lost in thought. Then, only a second later he drew himself out of his musings and looked up toward the guards again.

"Anything more?"

"Only one thing, sir," the wind dragon said. "I wished to inquire as to whether it would be possible to assign more guards from General Mason's division to policing duties within the city. Our guards are hard-pressed to keep up with their rounds when the city is this busy, and they are becoming weary."

"I'm not certain whether or not Mason has any spare guards available, but I will inquire about it," Terrador nodded. "In the meantime, we will pass on your reports to Cyril and Volteer once they return. Thank you, Captains. If that is all, you are dismissed."

Boreas bobbed his head sharply and turned to leave, slipping out through the doorway with flowing, purposeful strides. Raulk remained behind for another moment, however.

"Is there something else you wished to say, captain?" Terrador asked him curiously.

"Yes sir," the other earth dragon nodded. "A messenger from Sky Haven arrived at the main gates a number of minutes ago. He wished to confirm that a representative from Warfang would be attending the vote."

"Oh, blast," Terrador groaned, bringing a forepaw to his brow and massaging it wearily. "I had forgotten all about that."

"What shall I tell him, sir?"

"One moment," Terrador sighed before falling into thought, his brows creased in a frown. A short while later he glanced up at Sirius, appearing undecided. "What are your thoughts?"

"Well, I know that I can't go," the Fire Guardian replied with an apologetic shrug. "I have sworn to escort the officials from the Eastern City around Warfang during the days surrounding the vote."

"Yes, of course," Terrador nodded with a heavy sigh. "And I know that Cyril and Volteer are both occupied with their own functions, while I have made promises that I must keep as well."

"It seems that there is just too much to do during this festival," Sirius commented.

"Indeed."

Another short pause elapsed, both Guardians racking their minds for some sort of solution. All the while Raulk waited patiently, which didn't exactly help ease the feeling of pressure.

"One of our envoys?" Sirius suggested at length.

Terrador gave a low rumble. "We may have to, but that feels too impersonal. I would have preferred to have one of us go if at all possible, but it seems as if—"

"Oh! What about Spyro?" Sirius cut in suddenly.

Terrador blinked in surprise. "Spyro?"

Sirius nodded. "Why not?"

Terrador fell silent again, a look of consideration slipping over his features.

"It is certainly a possibility," he conceded at length. "But our young friend is already scheduled for several appearances in the coming days."

"I'm sure that wouldn't be too much trouble to sort out. Besides, I bet he would appreciate the chance for a break from being, for lack of a better word, _used_ as a symbol like we've been doing."

Terrador nodded slowly. "You certainly have a point there. Spyro deserves a reprieve more than anyone..."

Another few beats of silence passed as Terrador weighed their options. Sirius waited expectantly during this time, along with Raulk, both their gazes fixed on the larger Guardian. Finally Terrador straightened, a look of resolve in his eyes.

"I think it is our best recourse," he nodded. "Raulk, please inform the messenger that they can expect a representative to arrive within a few days. If Spyro can't go, then I suppose we will have to resort to an envoy, but either way someone will be present."

"As you wish, sir," Raulk said briskly before turning about and marching out of the chamber. When he had gone, Terrador turned his gaze on Sirius.

"I'll go find Spyro and ask him if he would like to go," Sirius said quickly, pre-empting the other Guardian.

"Thank you, Sirius," Terrador replied with a brief smile at the corner of his mouth. "I'll have to get Cyril's and Volteer's opinions on this decision too, but for now there is no reason not to proceed."

Sirius returned the smile and nodded before rising to his feet and hurrying out of the private chamber. Then, with a purposeful gait he exited the Temple and took to the sky, his eyes scanning the crowds for the familiar glint of purple scales amidst the packed bodies.

He only hoped that when he did find his younger friend, the purple dragon would be willing to take on yet another favour for the Guardians...

***.*.***

The sun overhead shone brightly, bathing the lands in its warm glow as it made its steady journey across the sky, passing its midday zenith only a few hours ago. However, despite the calmness and clarity of the day, the region was unnaturally still.

As a lone, slender figure stalked beneath the cover of a stand of trees, their broad canopies concealing her from any observers, she noted that it was as if someone had draped a veil of silence over the lands, as thick as death. Not a creature stirred for miles, driven to seek shelter from the ominous presence that had swept into their territory.

She smirked vilely, savouring the feeling. She remembered a time when a mere whisper of her presence was enough to elicit such a reaction from the world's citizens. She knew deep within her mind that the cause this time had more to do with the dark aura of the wraiths than anything, but for the time being she allowed herself the indulgence of pride.

_Soon enough they will once more fear me as they should_, she assured herself. _Very soon..._

The quiet sound of shadows converging behind her caused Tyrannica to pause and glance over her shoulder, studying the trio of wraiths that materialized in the darkness cast by the trees. Their hollow white eyes fixed on her immediately, blank masks of seriousness covering their expressions.

"What have you found?" she asked them, at the same time shifting her gaze back toward the landscape spread out in front of her.

"_We believe we have located a suitable position, Mistress_" one of the creatures answered immediately. "_It stands many miles directly to the north; a large mesa, isolated in the centre of a stretch of badlands. The nearest settlement is a day's travel from it, at least._"

"Hmm," Tyrannica murmured thoughtfully, nodding her head slowly. "It does sound promising. How long before we reach it?"

"_Three days at our present pace, Mistress_," the wraith told her.

Tyrannica made a sour face and growled in her throat, displeased by the answer. "Why so long?"

"_Our path is blocked by that mole settlement, Mistress. To remain concealed as you instructed we must detour around it and the surrounding farmland, which adds significantly to the travel time._"

"Hmm," Tyrannica grunted again, turning her gaze toward a brown spec on the horizon—the aforementioned village.

A tense moment elapsed in which the indigo dragoness contemplated their options, the three wraiths awaiting her response in unmoving silence. Then, suddenly, she turned her head and fixed the shadowy forms with a sharp gaze.

"And if we didn't need the detour?"

The wraiths appeared slightly surprised by the query, but nonetheless replied, "_A day._"

Tyrannica's eyes turned once more to the mole village, which sat blissfully unaware of the intruders standing at the outskirts of their home. Then, slowly, an ominous grin began tugging up at the corner of her lips, a dangerous light in her eyes.

"Tell me," she said in a silken tone that was at the same time captivating and frightening. "Are you at all restless, after thousands of years spent in imprisonment?"

Again the wraiths looked surprised, and they exchanged silent glances.

"_Our feelings are irrelevant, Mistress. Our purpose is to serve._"

Tyrannica gave a small growl, her eyes narrowing as she turned a glare back at her subordinates.

"I asked you a question."

Another pause. Then, "_Yes._"

Satisfied, Tyrannica's gaze returned once more to the village.

"Me too."

The wraiths gave no response to this. Whether they were surprised by their leader's words or were just waiting for what she said next was unclear, but Tyrannica paid it little mind. Deep within her a strange sort of excitement was brewing, one she hadn't felt in too long. Her grin stretched wider, taking on a sinister air.

"Alert the troops that we will be moving at nightfall," she ordered suddenly, not shifting her gaze. "I want to be ready to move out without any delay once the time comes."

She was aware of the wraiths exchanging another glance behind her, puzzled, but she could feel their rising anticipation as well.

"_Mistress...?_"

A dark glimmer sparked in her blood-red eyes, a twisted feeling of eagerness and energy taking hold of her. Her deadly gaze locked on the unsuspecting village, sitting so peacefully in the distance, so exposed.

...So helpless.

She chuckled wickedly, the predatory smile still stuck on her muzzle.

"We're going to have a little fun..."

* * *

**Dun, dun, duuuunnnnnnn...**

**Yay, first cliffie of the story! X) Hope you're ready for this. The next chapter's going to be fun. :)**

**Also, new character! What's his role going to be? We'll just have to wait and find out.**

**Until next time...**


	7. Chapter 7: Playtime

_Chapter 7: Playtime_

All within the land was still as the soft darkness of night descended over the world. Overhead the multitude of stars glimmered against the endless backdrop of the blackened sky, the crescents of the two celestial moons casting their pale glow over the landscape. A soft breeze blew through the air, bringing with it a mild chill as the region left the summer months behind it and the first hints of the coming cold season arrived.

In stark contrast to the peace and tranquility outside, however, was the festive atmosphere within the main tavern of the isolated mole farming village. That very day had marked the end of the autumn harvest, and as was the annual tradition a joyful celebration erupted within the town's favourite gathering site. Farmers, villagers, and travellers alike were welcome within the hall, the warm light of torches and lanterns filling the tavern's interior and spilling out into the street, upbeat music and boisterous singing echoing out into the night.

In a corner of the tavern a lone mole sat leisurely with one arm draped over the back of his chair, watching with a wry smile on his face as a ragtag band of musicians on the stage did their utmost to keep the merry atmosphere going well into the night. Laughter and singing could be heard everywhere, the villagers seizing this well-earned opportunity to enjoy themselves after a long, hard season of toiling in the fields.

This particular mole didn't partake in the merriment, however, content to simply be an observer as he clasped a steaming cup of tea in his left paw, leaving the heartier drinks for those with fewer responsibilities on their minds. Still, though he had promised himself before the festivities began that he would keep his restraint, that didn't mean that he was going to miss the celebrations altogether. Now, as he sat there watching and listening, he savoured the chance to soak up the joyful atmosphere.

His ear twitched when, over the laughing and cheering, he suddenly picked out a sharp, hissing voice from a table nearby. With a brow arched curiously he glanced over to see three other moles in ragged working tunics hunched over the table beside him, wary looks on their expressions as they spoke in undertones. Chuckling to himself, the mole set his empty cup down on the table, grabbed the crutch leaning against the back of his chair, braced it under his left arm and made his way slowly over to the party in question.

"Gentlemen, it's a mighty odd time to be looking so on edge," he said as he approached the speakers, smirking. "What could possibly be the trouble?"

"Evenin', Thomas," one of the farmers grunted in reply as the newcomer settled down into a free seat at the table. "Surprised to see you 'ere tonight. Would'a thought you'd be at home with that wife o' yours."

"How much longer has she got 'till the big event?" another of the moles asked, raising a mug to his lips.

"A couple of months, still," Thomas replied with an unconcerned shrug. "She's fine for now. Didn't want me to miss anything down here, anyway."

There were a few grunts and nods from the other moles.

"So, you still haven't answered my question," Thomas pressed. "What were you lot talking about that had you so worked up?"

"Ah, old Reg here was just spouting nonsense about some superstitious rubbish," the mole with the mug said dismissively.

"It ain't nonsense," the third mole snapped indignantly. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed anything. Something's been in the air these past couple of days; I can feel it."

"Rubbish," the other mole repeated.

"It 'as been awful quiet o' late," the first mole muttered. "It's as if the land all went dead all 'a sudden. 'Avent seen nothing livin' for days."

"Doesn't mean the area's cursed," the second mole persisted.

"Well, something ain't right," Reg said stubbornly. "Trouble's coming; you be sure of it."

"Trouble?" Thomas snorted. "Really, Reg, I think you're being a bit paranoid. The war's over, after all."

"_Your_ war, maybe," the first mole said pointedly, jabbing a finger at Thomas's crutch. "But you must 'a heard o' all the trouble they 'ad in Warfang after ol' Malefor was said to 'ave been killed. Can't go lettin' your guard down anymore."

Thomas chuckled again. "Suit yourself, Harold." Then he picked up his crutch again and rose from the table. "Well, I think I'll be turning in. Take care, gentlemen."

The other moles uttered various farewells in reply before returning to their own argument. Smiling to himself and shaking his head in amusement, Thomas turned and began weaving his way through the crowd of revellers that were still packed into the tavern on his way to the exit. Once outside he paused for a moment to take a deep, cleansing breath, drinking in the crispness of the night in contrast to the thick smell of torch smoke within the hall. Then he turned to his left and set off for his home.

His pace was slow but steady, the retired soldier allowing his crutch to take the weight for his left leg, which had been crippled by an arrow two years before the war against the Dark Master's monstrous hordes had finally been brought to a decisive resolution. Unable to help in the fighting any longer, he and his wife had relocated from Warfang to the quiet farming village in hopes that the conflict would leave them unnoticed. Fortunately for them, it had.

Several minutes later he caught sight of his small home ahead in the glow of the lanterns spaced along the dusty street. The door was closed but the window was open, candlelight showing through from the interior, and Thomas realized that his wife must have still been awake. In short order after that he had reached the threshold of the tiny home and entered. Sure enough, he found his partner sitting within the living room.

"Back so soon?" she asked, looking up from the tunic she was mending in surprise.

Thomas nodded, shrugging off his jacket before advancing into the living room, his crutch producing a dull _thunk_ each time it struck the wooden floor. He eased himself down onto the open end of the plain couch upon which the other mole sat.

"Had my fill of celebration for the night," he replied simply. "But what are you still doing up, Gwen? Shouldn't you be resting?"

The mole female laughed lightly. "Don't worry yourself so much, dear. We're fine."

At this she patted her noticeably round midsection, and Thomas couldn't help but give a small smile.

"Well, so long as you're sure," he relented. "Is there anything you need?"

"Well, now that you mention it, would you mind bringing me one of those biscuits from the other room? They should be done cooling."

Thomas chuckled before nodding and rising to his feet. "Of course. Just a moment."

"Take your time."

Thomas nodded again, then turned about and made his way into the cramped kitchen of their home, which was the only other room in the house save for the wash chamber in the back and the bed chamber above their heads. The sweet aroma of the fresh biscuits struck him the instant he was through the doorway, and he couldn't keep his mouth from watering as he separated one onto a plate and began carrying it back into the main room.

However, just as he was passing through the threshold he heard an odd sound through the open window from the direction of the nearest edge of the village. It had been faint, barely more than an indistinct _thud_, but something about it nagged at a dormant part of his psyche, triggering instincts from his days as a warrior. Eyes narrowing suspiciously, he absently set the plate down on the table beside him before hobbling over toward the doorway and opening it, peering curiously outside.

"What is it?" Gwen asked him, noticing the odd expression on his features.

Thomas paused for a long moment, scanning the streets outside and listening for any other sounds, but finally he replied, "I'm not sure. I thought I heard something."

"What?"

Again the mole paused, but shorter this time. Then he turned around and paced further into the house again, purpose in his strides.

"I don't know," he answered, at the same time opening an old wooden chest. Inside, on top of a couple of old bundled travelling cloaks, lay a broad, sheathed sword. He carefully withdrew it, slinging the strap over his shoulder so that the sword and sheath rested diagonally across his back. "I'm going to go have a look."

Gwen became noticeably uneasy at the sight of the sword, and in a nervous voice she asked, "Are you sure?"

"It's probably nothing," he assured her quickly. "Don't worry, this will only take a minute. I'll be right back, I promise."

His wife didn't appear completely satisfied, but nonetheless she made no further protests.

"Alright," she relented. "Just be careful."

"Of course," Thomas replied, flashing her a quick smile before pulling the door shut behind him. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned toward the source of the noise and began limping gradually down the street into the darkness.

***.*.***

_I had almost forgotten how this felt..._

A faint rustle of long grass against scales was the only thing that broke the stillness of the night as the lean, slender form of an indigo purple dragoness stalked gradually closer to the cluster of flickering lights that was the mole village ahead. With fine, precise movements she advanced through the stretch of open plain, the thick stalks of brown grass that reached up to her underbelly when standing upright helping to conceal her in the darkness.

The drawback was that the dense grass created noise as she moved, but the faint breeze that rustled the grass field regardless eliminated that concern. Add to that the sounds of music and revelry that drifted out across the otherwise quiet landscape, and the prowling dragoness was confident that no one would notice her approach until it was too late.

Tyrannica stifled a snicker at this thought, her eyes sparkling with deadly excitement in the pale moonlight. Every step she took sent a rush of adrenaline through her body, to the point that she was practically trembling with anticipation. Finally, _finally_ she had been presented with an opportunity to unleash all of the pent-up energy that had plagued her for so long.

_Almost two thousand years_, she thought with a mix of bitterness and exhilaration. _Two thousand years since I've seen any action. Oh, how I have _longed_ for this..._

Granted, a village of mole peasants likely wouldn't provide much in terms of 'action', but as a quick bit of fun she was certain that it would suffice for the time being.

_I only hope that at least a couple of them know how to fight properly._

Several more minutes passed as the purple dragoness crept closer and closer to her objective, the village still utterly clueless as to the danger that was at that very moment ensnaring them in its grasp. Finally Tyrannica drew to a halt behind the lip of a wide stone outcropping, her body crouched low to the ground, peering out over the rock at the peaceful village sitting only a few hundred metres away.

The faint whisper of twisting shadow drew near, and like spectres materializing in the night a squad of wraiths appeared only a couple of feet behind her, practically invisible in the darkness save for their eyes. One of them stepped soundlessly forward until it was standing beside its leader, gazing out at the village alongside her.

"_We are in position,_" it reported. "_There is no longer any escape from the village._"

Tyrannica's lips curled into a predatory smile.

"Excellent," she murmured, her talons kneading the thick soil beneath her in anticipation. "Then you may begin whenever you are ready."

"_As you wish, Mistress,_" the wraith answered ominously, and Tyrannica glanced toward the creature to see that a dangerous gleam had come into its gaze, a hint of a grin and what almost looked like hunger appearing on its twisted features—the first sign of emotion she had seen from any of the ghostly monsters.

In eerie silence the wraith, along with a handful of others, stepped forward and dropped into a crouch behind the outcropping. Then suddenly, their right arms came alive with writhing tendrils of shadow. Tyrannica watched with a mild feeling of intrigue as the dark wisps solidified into something vaguely resembling crossbows a moment later, the weapons encasing their arms as though they were a natural extension of their bodies. Then, in utter silence, the wraith leader levelled its new weapon at the village ahead, directly at a point where the tiny, furry shape of a mole could be seen pacing lazily on a rooftop lookout. Tyrannica smirked with approval.

"Remember, try not to make it too quick," she said before rising from her crouched position. Then, spreading her wings wide, she leapt from the dirty soil and with a single powerful stroke of her wings rocketed up into the sky, the darkness of night making her all but invisible to the moles in the village ahead. Only those who knew to look for her would be able to spot the signal to begin moving in on the now-surrounded village.

As she levelled out far above the sleepy town, all she had to do was wait and watch the fun begin...

***.*.***

As Thomas hobbled along the darkened streets of the village, he couldn't help but notice how unnaturally quiet it seemed to have become. He could still hear the music and voices from the tavern in the village's centre, but for a reason that he couldn't fathom it seemed oddly muffled, as though the air had become heavier, more oppressive. A twinge of unease festered in his gut, but he couldn't understand the cause. All he knew was what his old battle-tested instincts were telling him: something wasn't right.

His right paw unconsciously shifted around to his back, touching the old creased leather of his sword sheath as if to reassure himself that the weapon was indeed still there. In truth he didn't know why he had felt the need to bring the sword with him. He hadn't had need of it in over two years, and it hardly seemed likely that such a need would arise on that night, and now of all times when the world was celebrating a dawning age of peace. Still, something deep inside of him had urged him to take it, and he knew better than to ignore such feelings. During his years of fighting they had saved his life on more than one occasion.

He only hoped that they were wrong this time.

At last the edge of the village came into view ahead, but when it did Thomas paused in confusion. In the darkness he could see three figures clustered at the side of the roadway ahead, the only moles in sight—which wasn't a surprise, given that almost everyone in the village was currently at the celebration even at this late hour. However, as he drew nearer he noticed something was amiss. One of the figures was lying on his back in the dusty street, the other two hunched over him and conversing at a frantic pace. There was evident fear and consternation in their voices.

Growing even more uneasy, Thomas did his best to quicken his pace.

"What happened?" he asked as he approached the others.

The two other moles spun around sharply at the sound of his voice, startled, but when they saw him they relaxed marginally, though there was still great tension in their expressions.

"We don't know," one of them replied falteringly. "We heard a noise, and when we got here we found ol' Hopkins like this."

He pointed with a shaking paw at the mole lying on the ground, and Thomas stepped closer for a better view. He faltered with a muffled gasp when he saw the blank, lifeless expression on the mole's face, as well as the bloody hole in his chest. For a long moment he could only stare in shock at the body, but then he shook himself back to his senses.

"That looks like an arrow wound," he remarked after finding his voice with mild difficulty. Then he looked up at the other two moles again. "Where is it? Maybe it will tell us what kind of creature did this."

He faltered again when he saw the strange looks on the others' faces.

"There was no arrow," one said uncertainly. "It's like that wound just appeared on its own."

Thomas's eyes narrowed in suspicion and confusion, and he looked down at the body of the unfortunate victim again. With slight difficulty he lowered himself into a kneeling position, leaning over the dead mole and studying his wound. His brow furrowed with greater confusion when his earlier suspicion was confirmed; this was without a doubt the work of an arrow of some form.

But where was it?

Suddenly, a low, strange whistle reached his ears, followed a second later by a sharp, strangled gasp. Startled, Thomas whipped his gaze up and to the left to see that one of the other moles had moved a few paces away to the left, away from the lantern on the right side of the street in the hopes of seeing what lay in the fields beyond. What truly caught Thomas's attention, though, was the inky black arrow that was protruding from his abdomen.

"Wallace!" the other mole exclaimed in horror.

The wounded mole tipped limply over backward, the twisted expression of pain on his face slackening as the life bled out of him even as he fell. With a dull _thump_ he struck the ground, and Thomas could only watch in shock and bewilderment as the arrow lodged in his flesh suddenly dissolved into curls of black mist.

The low whistle came again, and by little more than reflex Thomas jerked his head down. It turned out that this reflex was the only thing that saved his life, for a split-second later another black arrow embedded itself in the stone wall of the house beside him, right in line with where his head had been an instant before.

"Move!" he snapped to the other surviving mole as soon as he shook himself out of his stupor.

Without wasting another second he leapt into action, pushing the mole hard toward the corner of the house. At the same time he grabbed his crutch in his paw and swung it hard over his head, striking the lantern hanging there and knocking it to the ground, the flame within flickering out within an instant and leaving the street bathed in darkness. Then he huddled back behind the corner of the house as well, peering through the night and straining to make out their assailant.

A moment passed in breathless silence, but then Thomas thought he heard something. It started out faint and almost imperceptible, but gradually it rose in strength. Thomas felt a chill run through him as his ears picked out dozens of whispering, cackling voices like something one would imagine from a ghost story. At the same time his eyes were barely able to make out movement in the fields, though in the darkness it was impossible to distinguish anything more than an indistinct black mass drawing closer to the village.

His heart felt like it had stopped beating, the icy claws of fear gripping at his chest as realization struck him.

_We're under attack!_

"Go!" he hissed to the remaining mole, pulling him to his feet by his tunic. "We have to warn the rest of the village! Quickly!"

The mole nodded his head frantically, and without delay he turned about and scampered back through the village buildings as fast as his tiny feet would carry him. As he departed Thomas drew his old sword from its sheath and pushed himself upright, gritting his teeth as he forced his wounded leg to take his weight. Then, leaving his crutch lying in the dirt, he turned about and began half running, half lurching into the village, determined to sound the alarm before their unknown foes were upon them.

He pushed his pace as far as he could manage, gritting his teeth fiercely against the pain lancing up from his crippled leg with every step that he took. He refused to let the old battle scar slow him, however. Not now. Every haunting chatter, howl or laugh that managed to carry to his ears sent a jolt of urgency through his being, and all the pain in the world couldn't stop him from delivering his warning. He could already hear the shouts of the other mole survivor farther ahead of him and to the western side of the village, but he wouldn't be satisfied until he saw the village's citizens rushing into the streets and up in arms.

Finally he left the deserted sections of the village behind him, and as the first signs of activity appeared in the streets ahead of him he sucked in as deep of a breath as his lungs could manage.

"The village is under attack!" he shouted frantically. "Enemies to the south! We're under attack!"

The response was terribly slow in coming, any moles within sight turning stunned and baffled looks in his direction, but when a particularly loud shriek from the darkness outside the village pierced the night they went into a panic. Terrified villagers began running in all directions, scrambling to reach their homes or some other form of shelter while those few who could fight ran off in search of arms to bear. Still Thomas kept running, determined to reach the bulk of the village's population at the tavern before it was too late.

But as it turned out, it already was.

A sudden scream split the air from alarmingly nearby behind him, jolting Thomas horribly. Then, barely a second later, a dark alleyway on his left suddenly erupted with what almost looked like black fire, and with a startled yelp Thomas stumbled and nearly fell flat on his stomach on the ground. Then, to his utter shock, a twisted, almost skeletal-looking creature sprang out from the shadowy plume and landed nimbly in the street barely a metre from him.

For a moment he could only stare in stunned silence at the monstrosity standing before him. It was nearly twice as tall as he was, its gnarled frame studded with wicked-looking points and crooked spikes. Most terrible of all was its face, vicious black fangs protruding from an elongated jaw, its sunken eyes glowing white with malice. Slowly, its head turned until its horrifying gaze was fixed directly at him, and Thomas felt a numbing rush of terror sweep through his being.

Then it uttered the most horrible, ear-splitting shriek he had ever heard or imagined, and like a feral animal it lunged toward him.

Reflex proved to be the mole's saving grace once again. While his mind was still frozen with dread and fear, his body acted of its own accord and he swung his sword up in a wild arc in front of him. The unknown creature gave a startled squeal as the blade cut through its chest and knocked it backward along the street. Then, even as it hit the ground, Thomas scrambled back to his feet and lurched away toward the heart of the village.

"Run!" he screamed at any other moles in sight, even as more of the nightmarish creatures sprang into the street behind him.

He forced himself to sprint faster than he ever had since receiving his debilitating injury, praying to any powers that may be that he reached strength in numbers before the creatures ran him down. In his state he knew that it would be all too easy for the assailants to overtake him, but he didn't allow this thought to take root in his conscious mind. He just forced himself to keep running, despite the pain blazing up from his leg.

And all the while, the frightening chatter of the shadowy monsters followed right on his heels as the screams and shrieks of battle filled the night.

***.*.***

There were no words to describe what she felt in that moment.

From her present vantage point, circling high above the village, Tyrannica had a perfect view of the events playing out below her. The screams of panic and terror that rose up to her through the air were like a sweet melody, while the sights of the pathetic moles scrambling frantically for their lives filled her with warped exhilaration. _This_ was what her life had been missing. Only a taste of it, true, but she knew inside that there would be much more to come.

For a moment she simply locked her wings and glided in a slow circle, watching the scene play out beneath her. The wraiths had the village completely surrounded like some sort of shadowy fog bank, while invisible in the distance she knew that others patrolled constantly to ensure that no one happened across the battle by accident and lived to spread word of it to anyone else. That left the rest of their forces free to terrorize the moles to their blackened hearts' content.

Of course, the sheer number of wraiths under her command meant that Tyrannica's army could have swept over the village in an instant, leaving nothing but death in their wake, but where was the fun in that? The point of this whole thing was to let loose a little bit before their real work began. So, instead of striving for efficiency, the wraiths purposely toyed with their victims, extracting as much terror from the helpless furry creatures as they could before actually causing them any harm.

A particularly loud scream stabbed into the night, and Tyrannica chuckled faintly and closed her eyes, letting out a prolonged sigh as she basked in the sound. However, a second later another sound drew her attention; the familiar clamour and racket of a frantic battle for survival. Her keen eyes located the source immediately, fixing upon a trio of squat moles wielding whatever makeshift weaponry they had been able to find. One gripped a heavy shovel in his paws, another jabbing frantically with a pitchfork, and the third wielding some haphazard piece of timber—perhaps a piece from a broken railing, or a spare fence post.

In spite of their meager armament, the three moles were doing surprisingly well at holding the flitting, spectral forms of the wraiths at bay. Standing huddled together with their backs facing the wall of a large-ish structure, they fought with all the desperation of a cornered beast whenever a wraith ventured within their reach. Obviously the shadowy monsters weren't really trying all that hard, enjoying their game, but it still looked like they had to be careful of the moles' lashing strikes.

Then, to Tyrannica's great surprise, one of the moles actually landed a solid blow. One of the wraiths gave a startled grunt as the sharp edge of the shovel glanced across its shoulder, and even from this distance the purple dragoness could see shadow trailing from the makeshift weapon's tip as it tore through wizened flesh. The wraiths, momentarily stunned, halted their predatory circling and fixed studying glares at the moles, regarding the frightened villagers with a new respect—and anger.

Tyrannica couldn't resist any longer. The sight of the moles' spirit kindled within her a flame of excitement, and with a feral grin forming on her muzzle she pulled in her wings and dove sharply for the earth. The air whistled in her ears as she sped toward the ground, hoping that the darkness of the night would conceal her long enough so that the moles didn't see her coming ahead of time. Then, as the ground raced toward her, drawing within a hundred feet, then fifty, then twenty, then only ten, she flared her wings out and swooped low over the street, the rush of air from her wings washing over the three moles and causing them to cower together with squeals of alarm.

In a flurry of movement that was deceptively elegant, the purple dragoness reared back sharply and caught the air in her wings, bringing herself to an almost dead halt in an instant despite the tremendous speed she'd attained. Before stopping completely she allowed her left wing to slacken, causing her to spin around to her right in a sort of mid-air pirouette. The wraiths fell back to give her room as she touched down easily in the street, rear paws first, then dropping to all fours. She began stalking slowly forward, and it was only this movement that made the three moles look up again. When their eyes fell on her they all froze instantly, utter disbelief and fear apparent in their postures.

She couldn't keep the pleased smile from spreading across her muzzle when she saw their expressions. Their eyes grew so large that it looked like they were going to pop right out of their skulls, while their lower jaws all hung slack in looks of absolute shock. Their mounting fear was all too evident in the way their paws trembled on their weapons, the crude implements clutched closely to their bodies as if they could still offer them some sort of protection.

"You show heart," she chuckled darkly as she drew slowly nearer to the tiny creatures. "I'm impressed."

The three moles began trembling harder with every step toward them that the dragoness took, and the sight of the fear in their eyes was intoxicating. Her eyes gleamed with a deep, sadistic thirst.

"It...I-it's not p-possible," the closest mole stammered weakly. "Another p-purple dragon?"

"That's right," Tyrannica grinned evilly. "And I guarantee you, I'm far worse than any you may have heard of before."

She drew to a halt scarcely a couple of metres from her three terrified victims, leering down at them with her ominous smirk growing ever wider. They could have tried to run, but their shock and terror rooted them in position. A faint crimson mist began to fill the air around her body, seeping toward the three moles and sending fresh jolts of fear through their beings. The mounting terror soon left them utterly helpless and trembling uncontrollably, unable to look away from the dragoness towering over them. Her eyes gleamed dangerously with the light of her fear element as she leaned her head down toward the moles, her glistening fangs hovering inches from their faces.

"How about a demonstration?" she hissed dangerously.

That was all it took for her victims to snap. In the course of only an instant, one of them gave a piercing wail of absolute terror and began trying to spin around to flee. Another teetered like he was going to pass out, and the third uttered a wordless howl of desperation and tried to plunge his pitchfork into the dragoness's looming snout.

None of them stood a chance. In a motion that was so quick it was barely more than a blur, Tyrannica spun around and lashed out with her long, whip-like tail. An icy blue glow surrounded it as it snapped out toward the three moles in the blink of an eye, and as her glinting, two-pointed tail blade sliced across them they were instantly frozen solid. The blow sent their solidified forms sailing back through the air, only to shatter into millions of indistinct, crystal-clear shards of ice when they struck the wall of a house farther down the street.

Tyrannica's grin broadened at the sight of her handiwork, and she straightened slowly from her lowered position. For a brief moment afterward she simply basked in the screams and cries that surrounded her on all sides, but quickly enough the moment passed and she was seized with an uncontrollable energy that filled her being. A maniacal gleam shone in her eyes as she turned her head back to gaze at the wraiths around her, and a fearsome grin crossed her angular features.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she smirked. "Take them all!"

The wraiths reacted instantly, unleashing terrible cries of bloodlust before they split away from each other and ran, leapt or otherwise dispersed into the village once more in search of their next victims. Tyrannica chuckled to herself as she watched them go, then turned her attention back to the street ahead of her and began stalking between the low buildings, eyes scanning constantly for any sign of movement.

A shout from her left suddenly caught her attention, and she whipped her head around to see a mole stumble out of an alleyway with an old, rusted dagger clutched in his hand. He tripped and fell to a knee in the street, but he immediately scrambled back to his feet with an air of franticness about his motions. Then, once upright again he spun hurriedly about to face the alley he had just come from, the dagger trembling in his paw as he levelled it at the alley as if waiting for some assailant to come leaping out of it. In his single-minded focus on this one threat, he had completely failed to notice Tyrannica watching him.

_Fool_, she chuckled inwardly.

With a bloodthirsty snarl, the indigo dragoness bunched the muscles in her legs and sprang forward, bounding across the distance separating her from the mole with effortless strides. The mole heard her and spun to face her, but as soon as his eyes fell on her deadly form racing toward him his body went slack with pure terror and the dagger fell limply from his paw, his eyes growing wide.

Then Tyrannica leapt into the air, growling with eagerness and deadly intent, electricity dancing across her vicious talons as she bore down on her newest victim...

***.*.***

_This has to be a nightmare._

That was the thought that kept echoing over and over inside Thomas's mind. It had to be a horrible dream, because what other explanation was there for something like this? But, to his dismay, every terrible sight and sound that assaulted his senses reminded him of the painful fact that there was no such good fortune here. This attack was undeniably, inescapably _real_.

He gave a sharp gasp when his left foot struck a broken piece of timber in the street, and despite his best efforts he stumbled and dropped painfully onto his right knee in the dirt. He scrambled frantically to climb back to his feet, planting his old sword in the ground to try and help push himself up, but it was too late. With a pair of terrible cries, two of the shadowy monstrosities that had fallen upon their peaceful village sprang into the street ahead of him from either side, blocking his path.

With an air of menace about their movements, they began stalking slowly toward the struggling mole. As they drew closer their right arms came alive with a swirling mass of smoky blackness, and when the mist receded Thomas could see that their limbs had become encased in vicious-looking implements, covered with jagged spikes and ending with a brutal tip on the end, perfect for slashing, stabbing, and otherwise battering without mercy. The sight of this unexpected, dark power sent a flood of dread through the small mole's being.

Then, suddenly, one of the two figures leapt forward, screeching fiercely and swinging its new weapon straight at its intended victim, but at that same instant Thomas finally managed to steady himself, and with a desperate cry he swung his sword up as hard as he could to intercept the blow.

The blade met hardened shadow with brutal force, jarring Thomas's paws painfully, but he didn't dare allow himself to flinch. Instead he wrenched the sword free from the creature's spiked club before it could pull him off balance. Then, grimacing past the pain in his leg, he ducked under his foe's second swing and swept his sword up with a strained cry. The blade tore a gash up the creature's right flank, causing it to stagger away.

For a fleeting moment, Thomas was shocked to see that no blood flowed from the wound he had inflicted. Only more twisting, black shadow...

_What _are_ these things?_ he wondered frantically.

Another shriek jolted him back to reality. The second figure was upon him before he could so much as blink, but Thomas wasn't about to let it take him down so easily. He clumsily sidestepped its first swing, retaliating with a sweeping stroke of his sword that severed the monster's leg above the knee. The creature toppled over into the street, howling with rage.

Thomas didn't waste an instant. Even as both of the hellish monsters began pushing themselves upright despite their wounds, he took off running along the street again as fast as he possibly could. The two monsters unleashed terrible, rattling cries at the sight of their prey escaping, but Thomas didn't look back. Instead he only pushed himself faster.

It had hardly been a matter of minutes since the unprovoked attack had begun, but already the village around him had been reduced to a scene of chaos. As Thomas ran through the streets his lungs burned from the acrid smell of the smoke that poured off of countless burning buildings, set ablaze by their attackers for no reason more than to spread panic. He forced himself not to look at the bodies lying in the streets, bodies of comrades and friends that had been slaughtered mercilessly by the foul beasts that hunted them seemingly for nothing more than sport. One thing that he couldn't help noticing was that the only bodies visible were those of moles, however, and this sent a flood of helplessness through him.

_Why can nothing hurt them?_ he demanded inwardly. _It's like they're unstoppable!_

And as unimaginable as it might have seemed, that wasn't even the worst part. No, he had seen the unmistakeable signs in the streets and ruins all around the village in his mad flight for survival. He had heard the roars, and the dull _thump_ of giant, leathery wings beating the air, and he had seen the dark shape passing in front of the dim moons. As unthinkable as it seemed, there was no denying it: a dragon was leading this attack.

And against a dragon, Thomas knew that the moles of the village stood no chance of survival.

Another haunting cry sounded in the night just as Thomas rounded a bend in the street, and he faltered when he caught sight of a fellow villager beset by two of their unidentified enemies. The black figures were herding their victim toward a broken stone wall, their glowing white eyes revealing a horrible sense of satisfaction at the sight of the mole's terror. The mole was armed with a sword, but he was unable to land a blow, the creatures dancing back out of reach every time he struck and retaliating with swift attacks of their own, forcing him even further backward. Thomas knew he needed help, and quickly.

Muscling past his fear, the mole uttered a bellowing cry and lurched forward, sword raised high. Immediately the two creatures paused, turning surprised looks back in his direction, but only a second later they responded with terrible swiftness. One of them lashed out at the trapped mole, knocking him through the air with a winded grunt, while the other whirled around and jumped for Thomas. Frantically, Thomas raised his sword to block.

He managed to parry the first hit, but the creature's second backhanded swing caught him in the chest and caused him to stagger backward with a grunt of pain. When he looked back up he yelped in panic as the monster swung its right fist at his head, and out of nothing more than instinct he swung his sword up. The creature gave a piercing shriek, and Thomas was stunned to see that he had managed to slice the arm off just above the elbow. However he had no time to celebrate, because the creature bellowed with rage and brought up its remaining arm, which was now encased in spikes just like his previous foes.

Thomas had no time to react before the jagged appendage tore across his right shoulder, opening a deep cut beneath his fur, and the mole fell back with a pained cry. He barely managed to keep hold of his sword as he hit the ground. Then, suddenly, the creature was looming over him and was poised to drive its weapon into his chest.

Thomas barely managed to roll out of the way before the spiked tip of the arm slammed into the dusty street, and while the creature was still recovering from the missed strike he rose to his feet and lashed out with his sword. The creature ducked, but before it could retaliate Thomas struck again, forcing it back a step. Unfortunately, before he could land a crippling blow, the monster caught his next swing on its hardened arm, then knocked his sword aside before swinging its right fist straight for his—

Wait, didn't he already cut off that arm?

Evidently the creature hadn't received this particular bit of news, because at that moment its completely uninjured right hand connected with his cheek, its jagged knuckles opening a bleeding gash in his skin and sending him reeling. The mole barely managed to clear the stars from his vision in time to see the spiked club sweeping toward his neck. He blocked desperately with his sword, twisting so that the creature was knocked off balance by its own momentum. Then, with a sharp, frantic cry, Thomas lashed out with a last-ditch, all or nothing swing for the monster's neck.

To his astonishment, it worked. The blade sheared through the creature's neck with minimal difficulty, and barely a second later the now-separate head and body of the creature dissolved into a cloud of black mist, vanishing on the wind. For a brief moment, Thomas could only stare at the point where his foe had just been in shock.

_So they _can_ be killed,_ he thought dazedly.

A sharp cry of pain snapped him back to reality, and he looked up to see the other mole staggering back from his opponent clutching at his arm, blood seeping between his fingers and a tight expression of pain on his face. The shadow creature quickly raised its club arm to deliver a finishing blow, and Thomas was seized by a rush of urgency.

Thinking quickly, he scooped up a loose piece of stone debris with his free paw and hurled it as hard as he could. His aim was true, and the creature snarled in anger as the stone bounced off of the side of its head, turning a terrible glare at the impudent mole that had dared attack it.

The other mole didn't hesitate to seize this opportunity and plunged his sword sharply forward with all the strength he could manage. The creature went rigid with surprise when the steel blade punched through its abdomen, the tip emerging from the centre of its back, but then faster than the mole could blink it swung its arm around and struck its attacker with brutal force, knocking him limply through the air.

Thomas was once again shocked that this creature could simply shrug off such a grievous wound without slowing down, but when it started advancing toward him with rage burning in its demonic glowing eyes he was jolted back into action. When the creature swung at him with its club arm he narrowly dodged, his smaller size proving to be his saving grace, and as the monster lined up for another blow he swept his sword around as hard as he could and cut a horrifically deep gash in its flank, the tip of his sword practically scoring across the surface of the one already lodged in the creature's body.

This wound finally had an effect. The creature was unable to simply overcome having so much of its body severed, and with a furious cry it toppled to the ground on its side. Immediately Thomas ran over to the groaning form of the other mole and dragged him to his feet, ignoring the mole's groan of pain.

"Run, now!" he ordered the other villager insistently. "Go, while it's down!"

The mole didn't hesitate to comply. Shooting Thomas one final grateful look, he took off running down the nearest street as fast as his stubby legs would carry him, still clutching the gash on his arm. At the same time Thomas set off once more as well, but instead of running for the edge of the village in the hopes of reaching safety in the dark fields beyond, he had a different destination that he was desperate to reach.

_Please let her still be okay_, he begged in his mind.

The noise had reached a fever pitch by this point, screams and wails of terror and despair filling the night with a terrible din layered overtop of the savage crackling of countless fires and the merciless clash of battle on all sides. By some stroke of impossible luck the street that Thomas turned down was for the moment deserted, however, and his desperation combined with the relentless noise pushed him to his fastest run yet, the searing pain from his leg barely registering in his mind.

Then, finally, as he rounded another bend he caught sight of his home at the end of the street ahead. Miraculously it was still standing, and looked almost untouched by the carnage that had ravaged the town. The curtains were drawn tightly over the windows, the door shut tight, and there was no sign of life within, but still the sight of it ignited a faint spark of hope within Thomas's chest.

_Please, please, be safe,_ he prayed. _Please, Ancestors_.

Panting from his exhaustion and the pain in his body, Thomas sprinted with all he was worth for the house, ignoring all else in that moment. The only thing that mattered to him was to reach his wife and get her to safety outside the village. Maybe, just maybe, they could slip out into the fields without being noticed where they could ride out the rest of this horrific attack. Just a few dozen metres left to go...

It happened so quickly that it was impossible to make sense of in his mind. All he knew was that one second he was running for his house, then the next there was a flash of red and orange light and the world erupted in deafening, blinding noise.

The sudden shock and roar was so intense that Thomas stumbled with a startled cry and fell onto his chest in the roadway, sliding through the dust and dirt before coming to a stop in a bruised heap. For a short moment he was too stunned to move, lying in the street and coughing dust from his lungs. Then, dazedly shaking his head, he began unsteadily trying to push himself upright again. He was only half-aware of the renewed wave of screaming that was coming from the area ahead of him, and of the roaring of fire that seemed strangely louder than it had before. Finally, he managed to climb to his feet and steady himself. He looked up to his house again, but as soon as he had he faltered with a weak gasp.

It was gone.

Where before his small stone house had stood, now there was nothing left except for a broken mess of scattered debris and a raging inferno that clawed at the blackened sky like a wild beast. Thomas could only stare mutely at the blaze, shock and horror leaving him rooted to the spot in a daze and stealing the breath from his lungs.

There was no way it could be true. Gwen couldn't be gone. She just couldn't!

And yet when he closed his eyes and opened them again, the hungry flames still burned.

Another scream suddenly split the air before it was cut strangely short. Then, a second later, a mole farmer running into the street from an alley on the left skidded to a frantic halt, only to have some sort of shapeless liquid mass that glowed with a sickly green light shoot through the air from the other side of the street and slam into him. The liquid splattered all across his body, and the mole screamed in agony as it burned his flesh away. A moment later, Thomas felt a crushing grip of horror in his heart as a new figure appeared around the street corner ahead, moving with slow, flowing strides, the light of the raging fire glistening off of smooth scales and razor sharp talons and horns.

The dragoness paused briefly, her dark red eyes taking in the scene of devastation, but then she seemed to catch sight of Thomas standing alone in the street and her head whipped around to face him. A vile grin slowly spread across her angular features, a sadistic pleasure gleaming in her eyes. Thomas, however, hardly even noticed this, for in that moment his own eyes had become fixed upon the scales that covered her hide.

Her _purple_ scales.

For a span of several seconds the stout mole was frozen in shock, his mind unable to grasp what his eyes were telling him. How could a purple dragoness be standing before him? It was impossible that another one could be alive, wasn't it? It didn't make any sense!

Then, a moment later, his eyes drifted from the towering dragoness to the raging flames that were even then consuming the broken remains of his home, and all at once his shock was replaced by a depthless torrent of rage and anguish. In only a span of minutes, this purple dragoness had stolen everything he had from him. His entire village was in ruins, the moles slaughtered helplessly, and his pregnant wife had been murdered in their own home. And for what? There was no reason for any of this!

The dragoness seemed to notice the blazing fire in Thomas's eyes, and her sadistic smile grew larger, her low chuckle barely audible past the screams and the fire.

With a savage cry of fury, Thomas charged forward for all he was worth, sword raised high over his head. His pain and rage pushed him faster than he had ever run since being wounded in battle. The fact that he had not even the slightest chance of inflicting any harm against this all-powerful foe didn't reach his conscious mind. All he knew was loss, savage anger, and a burning desire for revenge.

He didn't even make it half way to her before the dragoness turned sideways and whipped her tail around in a slashing motion. In response the earth beneath Thomas's feet heaved violently, and the mole gave a startled cry as he felt himself get thrown into the air. His arms and legs flailed madly in a futile attempt to maintain balance. A second later his body exploded with pain when he slammed back first into the cracked and crumbling wall of a building on the left side of the street. He began sliding limply down the face of the building, groaning, but before he reached the ground the dragoness swung a forepaw sharply upward. Without warning a broad, jagged pillar of some sort of dark violet crystal erupted from the street and slammed into the wall around him, pinning him in place.

Thomas winced as he felt the lethal points of the crystal poking against his skin, threatening to pierce clear through his flesh if he so much as twitched wrong. However this was the least of his worries, for at that moment he heard the sound of cold laughter. He looked up only for his breath to catch with a feeling of dread when he saw the purple dragoness stalking over to him, a deadly gleam in her eyes. When she stopped in front of him he felt a jumbled mix of terror and hatred surging inside of him, but he was unable to move.

"So spirited," the dragoness chuckled in a voice that was at the same time cold and melodious. "But so helpless."

Despite the truth of it, Thomas still bristled at the word 'helpless' and a dark scowl crossed his features. He struggled against the crystal that imprisoned him, but this only caused him to wince sharply in pain again when he felt the jagged points press harder against his body.

"Why have you done this?" he grunted at length, glaring up in loathing at the purple female. "Who are you?"

"Why do this?" she repeated, chuckling again. "I wouldn't expect you to understand my reasons. You do not know the torture of being imprisoned for an age. I was simply in need of a release, and your little village here was just so conveniently placed to fulfill that need."

She spoke so carelessly, as though the death and devastation around her was of no consequence whatsoever, and Thomas felt his fury spike again. A growl of hate escaped his jaws past his tense grunts of pain.

"As for who I am..." the dragoness continued, her mocking grin unwavering. "Well, in my time I was known by many names; Sky Viper, Blood Siren. But I think my personal favourite was The Huntress. I always found it quite fitting."

Then she leaned her head in close to the captive mole and her grin stretched wider, her lips pulling back to reveal her glistening, pointed fangs.

"...And I _never_ lose my prey."

Equal parts revulsion and terror swept through the tiny mole's being, but in the end it was only his anger that rose to the surface. He glared the dragoness right in the eyes before spitting sharply on her pointed snout, and she jerked her head back in surprise. A look of disgust briefly flashed across her expression, and she reached up with a forepaw to wipe the spittle from her scales.

"Go to hell," Thomas growled.

The dragoness fixed her gaze upon him once again, studying him briefly, but then a venomous smile replaced the slight scowl that had settled over her features and she leaned in closer to him again. At the same time she raised one of her forepaws, flexing her talons, and a screen of flames crackled to life across their glinting surface, flickering ominously.

"Where do you think I come from?" she hissed.

With a sharp, gleeful snarl the dragoness thrust her paw forward, the flames erupting in intensity at the same time, and all at once Thomas's world was consumed in blinding fire.

***.*.***

Less than a half hour had passed since the beginning of the attack, but already the night had again become still. Tyrannica stood in the centre of the village's ruined square, surveying her army's handiwork with an approving gaze. Aside from the fires that ate hungrily at the remains of broken homes and buildings, there was utter silence over the region. Not a soul stirred apart from the indigo dragoness and her legion of phantoms that stood watching her and awaiting her next command.

She took a long, slow breath through her nostrils, drawing in the scents of ash and blood that suffused the air. Her spirit burned from the thrill of the brief struggle, the wondrous feeling of adrenaline flooding through her being. A permanent smile of sadistic pleasure was stuck on her features, unshakeable in that moment.

_It's just as I remembered_, she thought giddily. _Every single bit of it. How I missed this feeling..._

She swept her gaze over her surroundings one final time, soaking in as much of it as she could.

"Let this be a message to everyone," she muttered to no one in particular. "The first of many to come..."

Though she could have stayed there forever, drinking in the sights and sounds until the light of dawn pierced the blackness, she knew that she still had a mission to see to. Though it was difficult for her to leave the battle behind her, she had work still to do. Sighing resignedly, she glanced over her shoulder toward the waiting forms of the wraiths.

"Alright, let's move out," she instructed them. "No more stops until we reach the mesa. Our master has waited long enough to taste freedom again, so let us not prolong his release."

The wraiths bobbed their heads obediently before their bodies dissolved into the shadows. At the same time Tyrannica turned her head to the sky, and with a mighty leap she left the ground behind her and powered up into the smoke-filled sky, delighting in the feeling of the hot ash and wind against her facial scales.

She levelled out high above the darkened landscape, and there she hovered for a short moment, casting a final look back toward the dancing lights of the flames that devoured the mole village. Then, with a feeling of purpose and determination inside of her, she turned to the north and beat her wings hard, racing off into the night with only the stars and the moons as witnesses of her passing.

By the time anyone might happen across the destroyed village, she and her army would be long, long gone, and no one would ever be able to tell of their passing...

* * *

**0.0**

**Wow. Who guessed that Tyrannica was THAT heartless?  
**

**So, something of a brief battle chapter, but don't worry; there will be plenty more where this came from. This story is just getting started...  
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**Not too much else to say. Hope you liked it, and I would love to hear what you thought. :) In the meantime, thank you everyone for reading.  
**

**Until next time...  
**


	8. Chapter 8: Another Journey

**Holy crap! It's an update! :O**

**I apologize for another long wait on this one, and the usual culprits are to blame again I'm afraid; uni projects. On the plus side, though: I only have one week left before the end of the term (not including exams), so I'll have free time again before long! :D  
**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy the new chapter. Read on!  
**

* * *

_Chapter 8: Another Journey_

It was a surprisingly quiet morning in the great city of Warfang. The dawn brought with it a clear sky, only a few light wisps of cloud in sight, painted in the warm colours of the rising sun. Despite the clear air there had been rain during the night, however, and so it was most likely that the reason for the quiet was that everyone was still nestled indoors, resting in the moment of stillness that the rain had imposed. The air had been cooled sharply by the falling rain and bore a heavy, fresh scent that only served to reinforce the atmosphere of quiet and calm.

Surprisingly, despite the early hour there was activity in the chambers of the city's purple dragon. In a break from his standard habit Spyro had risen with the sun, preparing for the days of travel ahead of him. Sirius had come to speak with him the previous afternoon, and though at first Spyro had been surprised by the request that the Fire Guardian had made of him, he had accepted quickly enough. It would be a nice change to escape the bustle and demands of the crowded city for a short while, he thought, and as he paced about his room checking for anything else he might need for the trip he found that he was actually looking forward to it.

And of course he was looking forward to the company he would have for this voyage as well. Cynder had been with him when Sirius had found him, and she had agreed to go along on the trip with him without any hesitation. In fact, she had seemed quite eager to leave...

Spyro dismissed the thought for the moment as he looked down at the small collection of items that he had gathered in the centre of his bed, studying them. There wasn't much, for he didn't expect to have much need for anything during their travels.

There was a folded map of the Dragon Realms present, with their destination circled upon it, as well as a signed letter from the Guardians for them to deliver to the local officials upon their arrival. This letter had been dropped off at his room the night before by a mole courier, and he had kept it safely tucked away on his shelf under the helm of his armour to be certain that he wouldn't lose it. Aside from this he had also selected a few shards of red and green spirit gems from his small stash for emergency purposes, although it was very doubtful that there would be any need for them.

Satisfied that he had everything he needed, Spyro padded over to his shelf and picked up the plain, brown leather bag that rested there. Then, with an unhurried air about his movements, he began placing the items on his bed inside the bag, arranging them carefully to his liking.

He had only just placed the sealed letter safely inside when a knock on the door caused him to pause and look up from his work. He turned his head in the direction of the door, curious.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," an unmistakeable voice replied, and Spyro straightened up a touch more in surprise.

"Come in," he said finally.

He looked back down toward his bag as he heard the sound of the door opening. Then, once he had managed to secure the small loop to hold the cover closed he picked the bag up carefully in his jaws and turned to descend the steps into the room's common area. There he found Cynder waiting for him, a small smirk at the corner of her mouth.

"Well, look who's actually awake," she joked.

Spyro gave a wry grin as he set the bag down on the rug by his forepaws. "Actually knocking this morning, are we?"

"Just trying to keep you guessing," Cynder chuckled. "I can't be letting myself become predictable now, can I?"

"You wouldn't be you if you did," he grinned. "Actually, wouldn't that mean that it would really be more unpredictable for you to act predictably?"

Cynder was silent for a moment, giving the purple dragon a strange look as she tried to work out his argument.

"Okay, you've definitely been spending too much time with Sparx," she said dryly. "That's it; we're skipping the stop at the swamp."

Spyro frowned at her, though there was humour in his eyes.

"Not likely."

Cynder gave a small snort of laughter and rolled her eyes, but Spyro didn't pay this any heed. Instead he turned his attention back to the bag, lifting up the strap that ran from corner to corner across its back and attempting to insert his head through it. As he did this, Cynder occupied herself by padding slowly around the edge of the common room, letting her eyes wander over the various items Spyro had acquired during his time living in the city. Then, just as he was fitting his left foreleg through the strap, she paused suddenly in front of his collection of books.

"Hey, Spyro?" she said after a moment.

"Hmm?" the purple dragon grunted in reply, pausing in his struggles against the bag. He looked up to see Cynder glancing back and forth between two shelves of books, a look of puzzlement on her face.

"Why does it look like you've never touched these books here?" she asked, pointing toward the shelf on the left with a talon, which held a small cluster of books written in Draconic runes.

Spyro hesitated, becoming uncertain. "...What do you mean?"

"There's dust on all of them," she told him, running a talon across one of the bindings to reveal the thin, almost unnoticeable film of dirt that had settled upon the books. Then she turned toward the other shelf, which was filled with books written in the Common Tongue of the realms, which as the name implied was a common language shared between all races. "But these all look read. Do you not like these other ones or something?"

"Uhh..." Spyro muttered unsurely.

"What about this one?" the black dragoness continued, plucking one of the untouched books from the shelf. "'Heroes of the Black Age.' That sounds interesting. So why haven't you read any of them?"

Spyro stopped pulling at the strap of the bag, having been secretly dreading that she would ask that question. He became strangely silent, and Cynder cocked her head to the side in confusion when he refused to meet her gaze.

"Well..." he began quietly before hesitating again, feeling terribly unsure of himself.

"What?" Cynder pressed.

Spyro didn't answer for a moment, still not looking at Cynder as feelings of conflict and uncertainty grew within him. It was a question that he really didn't want to answer, but he realized that he had no choice now; Cynder knew that he was hiding something, and he knew she wouldn't be satisfied until she found out what it was. Resignedly, he let out a long sigh.

"I haven't read them because...Well, I kind of...can't."

Utter silence slammed down inside the room, feeling thick and almost oppressive. For a long moment Cynder appeared caught utterly unprepared for that answer, blinking as a blank look of surprise flashed across her face. Finally, in a numb voice she managed to say, "What?"

Spyro sighed again, embarrassed and afraid of what she might think of him after what he was about to say, but he forced himself to continue.

"I can't read Draconic," he mumbled, still staring at his paws.

There was another long stretch of silence as Cynder processed this unforeseen piece of news, and with every second that passed Spyro became more on edge. What would she think? Would she laugh at him? It seemed ridiculous enough that she could do nothing else.

But she didn't. Instead, when she spoke, it was in a carefully neutral tone.

"Why not?"

Another sigh.

"I was raised as a dragonfly," he said with a small shrug, turning his eyes evasively away. "So that's what I was taught to read. My parents taught me Common too because they thought it would be useful if I ever ended up needing it, so I can manage perfectly fine in the city and everything, but I never learned Draconic."

Cynder still looked bemused, as though still struggling to grasp what she was hearing.

"But...what about the Guardians?" she asked in confusion. "I would have thought that they would have taught you by now if you didn't know it before."

Spyro shook his head. "Ignitus started teaching me while we were living at the old temple, but there was never much time for it, and then the apes attacked before we could get very far."

"But we've been having classes here for months now," Cynder persisted. "Why haven't they taught you then?"

"No time," Spyro said with a shrug. "There are so many things they need to teach me about being a public figure that there's hardly any time for anything else."

"Not even reading? That seems kind of fundamental."

Spyro shook his head. "I guess there were more pressing things that had to come first..."

"For five months?"

"What do you want me to tell you?" Spyro asked her, becoming exasperated. "I guess that since it was Ignitus that started teaching me Draconic, the other Guardians all figured that it wasn't their job to continue teaching me and just focus on their own agreed areas. Reading's just never come up, and with how hectic things always seemed to be I never thought to ask."

Cynder considered this, casting a studying gaze at the other dragon as the room fell once more into silence. It wasn't really surprising that this was all news to her. Because of their unique situations he and Cynder were instructed in private by the Guardians instead of attending the standard classes that were held for dragons their age, at least until they were caught up with the material the others were learning. In addition to this, because of the added demands that Spyro's position held the vast majority of their teaching was done separately, with the topics of Spyro's education differing greatly from that of Cynder's. That was how he had kept this secret from everyone for so long.

But now the secret was out, and Spyro found himself feeling humiliated and even a bit vulnerable, afraid that he might be subjected to ridicule for the rest of his life. What kind of dragon couldn't even read his race's own language? It was a joke.

But what Cynder said next caught him completely by surprise.

"Well then I'll help you."

Spyro jerked his head up, finally meeting Cynder's gaze, and instead of ridicule he saw only firm assurance in her eyes.

"You will?" he asked dazedly.

Cynder let out a small laugh at his baffled expression. "Of course I will. What, did you think I was going to laugh at you or something?"

Spyro didn't reply, but this seemed to be enough of an answer for Cynder.

"Spyro, this isn't anything to be embarrassed about. It's completely understandable. After all you've hardly even been a dragon for a year yet, essentially."

At this Spyro couldn't help but give a small chuckle, feeling some of his worry fading.

"You'll really help me?"

"Of course!" Cynder said without hesitation. "Come on, it's the least I can do."

A feeling of relief swept through him, and he gave a grateful smile as he felt the tension fading from his body.

"Thanks, Cynder."

A small smirk grew at the corner of Cynder's muzzle, and she shook her head with a mock sigh of exasperation. Then she padded over and bumped his shoulder roughly with her wing.

"You purple idiot. How could you think I would make fun of you for something like this?"

Spyro chuckled faintly again. "I don't know. It just...it feels a little unsettling, thinking about how out of place I still feel here sometimes when this is where I should feel at home."

"It'll just take time," Cynder told him. "You'll see. I felt the same way living in the temple after you rescued me, but it does get easier after a while."

"But you ran away from the temple," Spyro commented.

Cynder gave another exasperated sigh, but this one wasn't faked. "Of course you'd point that out. Yes, I did, _but_ I know now that, even though it was hard being there, if I had stayed it would have gotten better if I had just let it. Like it has here. So don't worry; before long you'll be able to look back at this and laugh. I'll make sure of it."

Spyro gave a small, thoughtful nod before turning his head toward Cynder and giving a more relaxed smile. The dragoness smiled back, and Spyro felt incredibly grateful that he had someone there that he could work through these challenges together with.

Another few seconds passed without either of them speaking, both deep in thought. Cynder was the first to shake herself out of this reverie, and she straightened up before turning her head to Spyro again.

"So, are you ready to go?"

Spyro nodded, giving the strap of his bag one final tug so that it sat snugly across the back of his shoulders, the bag resting securely against his chest. "Ready."

"Great, me too," Cynder told him. With that she started to move toward the door, but immediately she stopped herself. "Oh, wait."

Spyro watched with a puzzled look on his face as she quickly turned about and hurried over to his shelves again. Then, after a moment of thinking, she reached out with a paw and snatched one of the smaller Draconic books off of the shelf. With a look of purpose about her she padded over to her purple companion and quickly pushed the book into the bag on his chest, securing the cover afterwards.

"No reason not to get started as soon as we can," she explained, meeting his gaze and giving a wry smile at his look of surprise.

Spyro hesitated for a moment in uncertainty, still feeling a bit embarrassed about his 'problem', but then he gave a small sigh and nodded.

"Alright, fine. So, is that everything?"

Cynder nodded her head. "Unless you forgot anything, I'd say we're ready."

"Okay, then let's go."

Cynder allowed him to take the lead, and so Spyro turned toward the door and stepped through it, letting Cynder pass before shutting it securely behind him and bolting it with his earth powers. Then the pair descended through the stairways and halls, arriving in the still-empty street outside a minute later.

Or not entirely empty, as it turned out. As they exited the residence building Spyro caught sight of a lone, yellow-scaled figure awaiting them on the other side of the street. Volteer rose from his seated position when he saw the two young dragons, and they quickly padded over to him.

"Good to see you both ready and prepared for your departure in a timely manner," the Electricity Guardian declared as the two young ones stopped before him. "I trust that you are well informed and aware of the route that you will be undertaking for a safe and timely arrival at your destination?"

Spyro and Cynder both nodded their heads.

"We should be fine," Spyro said. "If not then we have the map anyway."

"Yes, yes, of course," Volteer nodded quickly. "Now, while I am sure you are both fully up to date with the procedure of this voyage it is only prudent to confirm that everything is as clear as possible. You both know that you are only required to serve a witnessing role at the event in question, yes?"

"Yep," Cynder said, bobbing her head, and Spyro did the same beside her. "Attend the vote. Report on the result when we get back. And other official pleasantries and all that."

"Good, good. Excellent. We all knew we could trust you fully and unreservedly with this task. I will not detain you any longer, then. Enjoy your journey, young ones. I am certain that this visit to Sky Haven will be a pleasant and enlightening experience for you both."

Spyro gave a quick smile and inclined his head in reply. "I'm sure it will be. We'll see you when we get back."

"Enjoy your week," Volteer replied brightly before turning to depart up the street and return to the Temple. At the same time Spyro and Cynder spread their wings, and as one they took to the sky and turned to the east, flying with the rising sun to guide their path as the crisp morning breeze danced beneath their wings. As they winged their way across the sky Spyro couldn't help but feel a blooming sense of warmth and excitement within him, and he glanced to his left to see that Cynder bore a smile of similar sentiments on her own face. He couldn't deny that he was happy to be setting out into the unknown once more with the one dragoness that he wanted to share such a journey with.

_Let's just hope that for once we can have a quiet, uneventful trip,_ he thought with a wry chuckle.

They couldn't have asked for better conditions for flying. While the morning air bore a hint of a crisp chill, the sun shining on their wings helped to warm them easily and soon enough was heating the air to a more comfortable temperature as well. The thin dawn mist was burned away by the sun's light within an hour of their departure, and from then on the vibrant colours of the landscape were able to shine through with unhindered clarity. Everything seemed fresh and alive, and for just a fleeting moment Spyro allowed himself to feel a small sense of pride. He, as well as his friends and so many others, had fought with everything they had for this, and seeing the land so quiet and calm was all the confirmation he needed that it had been worth every trial and struggle.

They stopped only once that day to hunt for a meal in a flat stretch of grasslands. They wanted to cover as much ground as they possibly could before the sun set and they stopped for the night. It wasn't that they really needed to rush, though. Mainly it was because Spyro wanted to have as much time to spend at the swamp as possible when they stopped there along the journey. Regardless of how far they flew that day, it would still take them two more to reach their destination.

Their destination, the recently-uncovered dragon refuge known by its inhabitants as Sky Haven, sat nestled in a set of sheer cliff faces high, high above the earth below in an area a good ways north of the swamp where Spyro had grown up. These cliffs marked the beginning of the range of towering plateaus upon which Tall Plains was situated a few hours' flight to the north of the dragon shelter, and provided an excellent natural defence from any dangers or enemies during the war. When the two young dragons had first been told about it, Cynder had been surprised to learn that it was in fact so close to a region that she and her forces had occupied for such time, and she had remarked wryly that it seemed the dragons had been far better at hiding from her than she had given them credit.

News had flowed quickly from this new settlement once they had shed their cloak of isolation, however, and Spyro had been impressed with what he had heard. Similarly to the Eastern and Northern dragon cities, what had started out as a shelter for a band of refugees had swelled into a full-blown city dug right into the cliffs. The last report that Warfang had received stated that there were now a good four hundred dragons living there, which was tremendous news for their still-rebuilding race. Now, in the months of peace, it seemed as if this isolated haven now wished to expand into a full-fledged city-state of the Dragon Realms, just as Warfang was and the Eastern City was rapidly becoming, and they had expressed a keen desire to form strong ties with Warfang for the future.

None of what he had heard gave Spyro any idea of what the city itself was actually like, though, and so he was very eager to see it for himself. As it stood, Warfang was really the only dragon-populated locale that he had ever had any real chance to observe and experience, and so this chance to see a new place and new dragons excited him.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, the two young dragons had covered considerable ground. Just short of two-thirds of the way to the swamp, they decided that this was as good a place as any to stop to rest for the night, and they set to work locating shelter before the light of the sun faded too much. Eventually they found an abandoned den of some sort, showing no signs of being lived in for quite some time, and after Spyro used his earth powers to expand it just enough to make it more comfortable they settled down inside of it for the night, the close walls of packed earth and stone protecting them from the outside world and holding in the warmth of their bodies. Worn out from the long day of flying as they were, it took them only moments to plunge into a deep, peaceful slumber.

The next morning dawned bright and relatively clear, just as the previous day had been, and also not quite as cool meaning that it took very little time for the two young dragons to warm themselves up for the resumption of their journey. A quick meal of rabbits gave them a boost of energy for the flight ahead, and once more the two companions set off into the sky, riding the tailwind toward their next destination; the swamp.

As the hours flitted past and the landscape below them took on more and more of the familiar shapes and colours of his childhood home, Spyro couldn't help but feel a giddy excitement growing in his chest, and without realizing it his pace inched steadily higher. Cynder easily picked up on this and quickly seized the opportunity to tease him about it, but Spyro thought he detected a sort of excitement in her eyes as well. He could tell that she was very interested to see where the purple dragon had grown up, and how he had lived before knowing what he really was.

A small part of Spyro felt anxious, though. This was the first time anyone from his new life would witness his old one up close with nothing hidden from their sight, and it left him feeling vulnerable. But at the same time he was also excited for the chance to share it with someone, and under these circumstances he felt like the black dragoness beside him was the best someone to do that with.

Finally, as the sun drew toward its midday peak, the first bulbous shapes of giant mushroom caps appeared ahead of them, and within moments the two dragons had left the sparse woods behind them and were soaring over top of the towering mushroom forest of the swamp. Spyro's heart leapt as his senses were suddenly overcome by the sights, sounds and smells that he hadn't experienced since leaving his home over three years before, and unbidden a large grin stretched across his muzzle.

"Happy to be back?" Cynder asked him with a small smirk, noting his expression.

Spyro gave a quick laugh before nodding his head. "Everything is just like I remember. The colours, the smells, the feeling of the air. The way it all was before."

Cynder seemed to notice the touch of nostalgia in his voice, and her smile became softer.

"Back when things made sense?"

Spyro glanced at up at her for a moment, seeing the way she was watching him, and a thoughtful look came over his features.

"I don't know if I would say that," he answered at length. "A lot of things make more sense now than they did before, I suppose, like why I never really seemed to fit in, why I was different. But..." He trailed off as he tried to put his feelings into words, and eventually just settled on, "I guess things were a lot simpler then. You know; no responsibilities or anything."

Cynder nodded slowly. "I think I understand. Well, then for the rest of the day consider things to be just like that again. Until tomorrow you officially have no responsibilities to worry about, and that isn't up for discussion."

Another small laugh escaped the purple dragon's jaws, and he grinned up at Cynder again.

"That sounds pretty good."

"I thought it might," Cynder smiled. Then she added, "Well, actually, I wouldn't say that you have _no_ responsibilities. You're going to have to show me around, after all, since I don't really know anything about this place."

Spyro gave her a slightly surprised look. "But you've been in the swamp before."

"The temple, sure," Cynder nodded. "But aside from that I'd only just flown over it every now and then." She gave a wry, half-grin at the corner of her mouth. "To me this was always one of those places to send the lowly foot soldiers, and not bother getting my paws dirty...Literally."

Spyro chuckled. "Well, I'm afraid that might be a little bit unavoidable. Some places down there can be a bit wet."

"Charming," Cynder grunted with a frown of mixed humour and irritation, and Spyro chuckled again. "So how much farther is it from here, anyway?"

Spyro paused and surveyed the landscape ahead, thinking, before turning and giving a sheepish grin to his companion.

"I don't know, actually."

Cynder blinked in surprise. "What? But this is your home."

Spyro shrugged. "This is my first time seeing it from up here, except for the area around the temple. Everything looks pretty different."

Cynder's expression became concerned, but Spyro laughed again and tried to dispel her worry.

"There's the Silver River over there," he said, pointing a talon. "We'll follow it for a while. I'm sure I'll spot something familiar before long."

Cynder didn't look quite convinced, but then she resigned herself to trust in her companion's lead and nodded her head. "Alright. Just don't get us lost out here forever, hero."

Spyro grinned. "I'll try my best."

The pair banked toward the thin, silvery line twisting along through the mushroom forest and soon pulled up above it. Since they were still more or less in the southern area of the swamp they continued following the river north, heading upstream. For a time there was no sign of anything other than mushroom caps, however, and Spyro began to worry that perhaps they were heading the wrong way and should turn around, but just at that moment a small clearing to the left caught his attention, nestled in a small area of more uneven ground. As they drew closer to it Spyro jerked up when he realized what the place was.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, startling Cynder and causing her to whip her head around. "I know that spot! Come on, we're close!"

He angled toward the clear patch without hesitation, and after a brief moment Cynder shook off her surprise and followed him. Within moments Spyro had sped low over the edge of the clearing, and his suspicion was confirmed when he saw the lone, twisted tree standing clearly in the centre of the open patch of land, which sat in a sort of natural bowl in the earth with walls of dirt and stone on each side, narrow trails leading out at various points. This was a place he would always remember from his time playing games with Sparx. The place where he had spent his last day as a dragonfly.

After circling the clearing once Spyro locked his wings and began gliding down toward the ground, angling so that he touched down near the protruding roots of the large tree with its branches covering him in their shade. His paws met the soggy earth with a very soft squishing sound, and for a second he simply stood there and slowly kneaded his claws in the ground, the familiar feeling of the cool, mossy earth between his toes rushing back to him. Then he heard Cynder land beside him, her unfamiliarity with the terrain evident by the somewhat louder squelch her paws made on impact.

"This ground isn't as high up as the ground around the temple, is it?" she remarked, and Spyro looked to see her staring down at her wet paws with a slight grimace on her face, appearing unimpressed with the bits of moss and sodden earth that clung to her scales and claws.

He couldn't help the grin that worked its way across his features at her expression. "Not quite, no."

She shot him a wry frown when she saw him grinning, and he chuckled. Her eyes narrowed into a half-glare, but a smirk tugged at her lips and she sighed and shook her head. Then she looked up at the tree above them before taking in the rest of their surroundings.

"So what is this place?" she asked him.

"Sparx and I used to come here all the time," Spyro explained. "It was a good place to just goof off without anyone else around, because it's a bit farther away from the village than most of the other dragonflies think is safe."

"This place?" Cynder asked, glancing around again skeptically. "It seems fine to me."

"Yeah, well, we're a fair bit bigger than dragonflies," Spyro smirked. "And so are most of the other things that you find around here."

"I guess that's true," Cynder nodded. "Anything particularly nasty around that we should watch out for?"

Spyro shrugged. "Not really. A few bulb spiders when it gets later, maybe. The growths don't usually come down this far. Just watch out for toadweeds. They're everywhere."

"Sounds like scary stuff," Cynder chuckled.

Spyro grinned. "Don't worry, you'll be safe with me."

Cynder snorted, and Spyro gave a small laugh.

"Come on. The village is back this way."

He turned about and began padding toward a trail leading away from the clearing to the south, back in the direction from which the two dragons had just come. Cynder followed him closely, trying her best to mimic his steady movements to keep from sinking too far into the marshy ground. The fact that she was lighter than he was helped considerably, but practice was definitively on his side. On a couple of occasions Spyro would hear a muffled curse behind him as Cynder misplaced a paw or accidentally splashed in the more soggy areas of terrain, and the lower portion of her legs were soon covered in splotches of mud and swamp filth.

She was a surprisingly good sport about it, though. While she was clearly uncomfortable with the feeling of the swamp grunge clinging to her scales, she didn't complain about it. Spyro wondered whether a part of that might have been the fact that she didn't want to insult his home, but he figured mostly it was just the way she was; accepting her circumstances and moving forward without dwelling on small, meaningless things like dirt. Even so, he expected that she would be happier on drier land.

As they were walking through a particularly wet stretch of the trail, Spyro was showing Cynder the best method of crossing to keep on dry footing, but Cynder still misjudged one of the jumps and gave a startled yelp as her forepaw splashed down past the wrist in bog water. Spyro made a conscientious effort to hold back a snort of laughter as she pulled her paw free, scowling. She waved the paw once to try and shake off some of the dirt and slime, then sat back on her haunches and reared up to use her less-dirty forepaw to try and wipe that same slime from her chest. At the same time she glanced up to meet Spyro's gaze and gave a wry smirk.

"I'm going to be wearing your home all the way to Sky Haven," she snorted.

Spyro gave a sheepish smile. "Don't worry, the ground is a lot drier at the village, and the river is nearby to clean off. It isn't too much farther."

Cynder merely grunted before giving up on trying to wipe her chest scales clean and standing back up. She began calculating her next jump to catch up to Spyro, but before she could Spyro suddenly got an idea and dipped a forepaw into the water beside him. The moisture in the ground quickly froze, provided the two dragons with a clear path to the drier section of trail ahead. As he pulled his paw free of the ice he noticed Cynder shooting him a half-smirk.

"You could have thought of that earlier, you know."

Spyro gave a small, guilty smile and shrugged. "Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, fine," she chuckled, shaking her head and moving forward, passing him on her way along the trail and cuffing him on the shoulder with her tail. "Come on, you overgrown purple toad. The sooner we get to that village, the sooner you can start showing me the nice things about this place."

"Deal," Spyro laughed before quickening his pace and taking the lead again.

From that point on it only took them a matter of minutes to reach their destination, Spyro coating the trail with ice wherever necessary to ease their crossing. Finally the earthy walls that flanked the path they were following began to fall away and the ground sloped gently upward, leading to a wide patch of clear, dry ground. Towering mushroom stalks dotted the area, as well as low shrubs and scattered underbrush, but most noticeable was the bright points of coloured light that flitted to and fro through the air, voices emanating from them in peaceful conversation.

Spyro felt a huge smile stretch across his face at the immense sensation of familiarity that swept over him, surrounded by the sights and sounds that had been so natural and common to him growing up. This place was full of so many memories for him, good and bad but most of all comforting, and it only struck him then just how much he had missed it. While he knew that Warfang was where he belonged and where he was happy to spend his life, this village would always be special.

Cynder obviously noticed the shift in the purple dragon's demeanour, because she walked up closer to his side and rubbed her shoulder tenderly against his, giving him a warm smile that showed no traces of her earlier irritation.

"Home sweet home, huh Spyro?" she said.

Spyro's smile grew a touch wider, and he simply nodded his head, finding that no words came to him in that moment and that he had no need of them. He took a long, slow, deep breath, feeling at total peace for what must have been the first time in months. All at once he was immensely grateful to Sirius for suggesting that he take this journey. This was exactly what he had needed.

The arrival of the two dragons had clearly been noticed by the dragonflies by this point. Many of them had stopped and were now gazing at the visitors in surprise, clearly caught off guard. None of them had approached them yet, and it seemed almost as if they didn't yet know how they should respond. It was like they had thought that when the odd, oversized purple dragonfly had left their village years before they would never be seeing him again, and yet here he was standing before them, and not alone either.

Just at that moment Spyro caught a voice over the soft murmur of conversation farther into the village, and at that moment a pair of dragonflies appeared from behind a cluster of mushroom stalks, hovering at a leisurely pace through the village and speaking to each other in calm, bright voices, as though just on a routine trip through the village. The pink and green one was facing away from them, talking to the larger blue one beside her who was carrying a tiny bundle of some sort of reeds over one of his shoulders, the same type that Spyro had seen dragonflies use to make things such as hammocks or window covers. At the sight of them his face lit up instantly, his heart leaping in his chest.

"Mom!" he exclaimed immediately. "Dad! Hey!"

The two dragonflies jolted at his call, Nina giving a surprised gasp and Flash nearly dropping his reeds. They both whirled around to face the source of the cry, and when their eyes fell on Spyro and Cynder looks of utter shock flashed across their expressions before being replaced by huge smiles of delight.

"Spyro!" Nina called out joyfully, and before Spyro knew it his parents had rushed over to him. He laughed as his mother grabbed his snout in the biggest embrace she could manage, while Flash gave him a firm pat on the brow and smiled with pure happiness, still holding the reeds.

"It's great to see you, son," he said brightly, giving the dragon another hard pat and grinning. "This is really a surprise!"

"You can certainly say that again," Nina laughed. "We were starting to wonder if you would ever have a chance to get away from that big city. This is wonderful! We're so glad to see you here."

"Thanks, Mom," Spyro chuckled.

"And Cynder, it's so nice to see you again too," the pink dragonfly added, hurrying over to give the black dragoness an embrace much like the one she had just given her son, causing Cynder to let out a small giggle.

"It certainly is," Flash nodded before hovering back to take in the two young dragons better. "So what brings you both all the way out here? We want to hear everything, don't we Nina?"

"That's right," she nodded, hovering back beside the larger dragonfly. "I'm sure you both have so much to tell since the last time we visited."

"We were just doing a small job for the Guardians," Spyro explained, nodding quickly toward Cynder. "We were going to pass right by the swamp to get to our destination anyway, so we decided to stop for a visit."

"Well, we're very glad you did," Flash said, and Nina nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "You're probably tired from the trip, then."

Spyro smirked, feeling a small burning rise from his wing shoulders after the past two days of flying. He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get a word out he was suddenly cut off by another very recognizable voice.

"Does that voice belong to who I think it does?" came the energetic cry, and Spyro looked up just in time to see a golden yellow dragonfly rush out from behind a low, fat mushroom cap. As soon as he saw the purple dragon standing there he let out a bright laugh. "Hey, what do you know? The big shot is back!"

Spyro chuckled and shook his head before looking back up at his brother. "Hey, Sparx. How've you been?"

"Fantastic, buddy," the dragonfly declared proudly, crossing his arms smugly. "I tell you, this R&R is exactly what the doctor ordered. You know I love the city life, but sometimes a dragonfly's just gotta get away for a while and let loose, you know what I mean? Keep the soul healthy and all that jazz."

"Of course," Spyro grinned.

"I tell you, it's about time you took a break from that chaos in the city, pal. It can't be healthy, working yourself day and night the way you do. You're still young, bro! You need to just break out and give yourself some you time every now and then. Plus, it's the perfect chance to get away from Cyy..."

He faltered and a look almost akin to panic filled his expression for a quick instant when he caught sight of Cynder standing on the other side of his brother, giving that combination of a smirk and a hard glare that Sparx was so good at eliciting from her.

"...yyyril for a little while," he continued lamely. "You know, with that ego of his." He cleared his throat forcibly. "So, at the 'bring your girl home' stage already, are we? Isn't that...nice."

Cynder's eyes narrowed a touch, but this seemed to have no effect on the dragonfly. Just then he noticed the mud and dirt stuck to her scales, and he snorted loudly, a smirk pulling at his features.

"Heh, been getting the official swamp welcome, huh Blacky? It's a good look on you."

Flash and Nina gave their son disapproving looks, but Sparx was oblivious to this. Cynder's glare darkened for a moment, but then her expression shifted back toward a smirk of dry humour.

"Yeah, you should try it out sometime," she said tauntingly. "It might be an improvement, Sparkles."

Sparx went rigid at the sound of his hated nickname, and off to the side Flash and Nina couldn't help but give quiet snorts of laughter. Spyro also grinned, but Sparx recovered with surprising promptness.

"No worries," he said, waving a hand nonchalantly. "If you want to start our little game back up, then bring it. I've been working on a few good comebacks while I've been enjoying the peace and quiet."

"Ooh, I'm trembling," Cynder smirked. "Do your worst, pixie boy."

"Game on," Sparx said mischievously, rubbing his hands together. "And for the opener: Poison Breath!"

Cynder scoffed. "Really? That's underwhelming."

"Alright, fine," Sparx shrugged. "All good. I've got a million of 'em. Twig Legs."

Cynder yawned and lifted up a forepaw, examining her talons as though she couldn't even hear him.

"Shrieksalot."

Cynder snorted. "Honestly, Sparx, you're going to have to do a lot—"

"Damsel."

Cynder faltered, surprise registering on her expression for a moment and her posture going rigid like she had frozen. Slowly she looked up at Sparx and narrowed her eyes, arching a brow.

"What?"

"Oo-hoo," Sparx snickered gleefully. "Bingo."

"Where did _that_ even come from?" Cynder asked sharply.

"You know, like damsel in distress," Sparx said matter-of-factly, a very smug look on his face. "How many times has Spyro had to rescue you now? Two times? Three?"

A low growl rose from Cynder's throat, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I don't need rescuing," she said in a low voice.

"Oh, really?" Sparx scoffed. "Then why did Spyro have to go running all the way to the Well of Souls when you got nabbed by that dreadwing?" He clasped his hands together and said in a high, shrill voice, "Ooh, Spyro, save me!"

The still air was shattered by a raging snarl of fury, and Spyro yelped and jumped backward as Cynder suddenly lunged forward straight at Sparx, but the yellow dragonfly quickly dodged up and away from her before she could reach him. Then he spun around and zipped away from them, laughing with giddy joy. Cynder wasted no time charging after him, eyes blazing.

"You are _dead_!" she shouted. "Do you hear me? Get back here!"

"We have a winner!" Sparx cheered delightedly.

Spyro, Nina and Flash could only watch in dumbfounded silence as the snarling dragoness tore after the flitting golden light that was Sparx, the dragonfly whooping and laughing incessantly as he evaded his pursuer at every turn. As their shouts echoed through the mushroom forest, Spyro gave a small groan and brought his forepaws up to his brow, massaging it.

_So much for quiet_, he thought tiredly.

Nearby, Nina gave a small sigh before turning to look down at Spyro, a feeble smile on her face.

"We're so happy you came back to visit, Spyro," she said.

Spyro lowered his forepaws and gave her a strained smile of his own, just as another furious shriek from Cynder reached them from somewhere out of sight, followed by another of Sparx's triumphant cheers.

***.*.***

The bare, rocky tunnels were dark and treacherous, with jagged edges and a multitude of cracks, protrusions and hollows that made each step perilous. Despite this, though, the network of passages they provided was most convenient and, more than that, extremely secure. The only way in was through a small number of narrow, concealed gaps in the mesa's stone walls that opened out onto sheer cliffs, unreachable by any creature that didn't possess wings.

In Tyrannica's eyes, it was perfect.

Of course it would take some work to transform into a serviceable fortress to use for however long her master had need of her to, but the indigo dragoness knew that this wouldn't be a problem. Her earth powers allowed her to manipulate the floors, walls, and ceilings of any passage at a whim, and the wraiths themselves were also proving to be surprisingly helpful in this regard as well. Apparently, though she had never known this, beings that were so closely linked to the powers of shadow as the wraiths were could use the dark powers not only to turn their own bodies into nothing but a shadowy trace of existence, but they could do it to other matter as well, such as stone.

She paused for a moment to observe one such group of wraiths working on a particularly constricted passage beside her. The darkness within the passages made it all but impossible to see anything with her eyes, but through her earth powers she could feel the stone seemingly vanishing and warping slowly as the wraiths broke down the excess rock with their shadow powers and reformed it to their liking. She nodded her head in approval and continued on her way down another passage, absently using her earth power to broaden and smooth the walls of the tunnel as she walked.

Soon enough she reached a much larger natural opening inside the mesa, and she paused to survey it with interest. It was the largest cave she had found so far in this new home of theirs, spanning at least a few dozen feet from top to bottom at its highest point and many times that width across. The air was thick and stale, but she knew it wouldn't take long to circulate once work on the connecting passages was completed. What truly caught her interest about the chamber, though, was the trace of ancient energy that lingered within it, seemingly just out of reach...

She extended her perceptions through the stone that surrounded her, and a moment later a faint smile appeared on her lips. With sure-footed strides that made it seem as if the near-total blackness was really the clearest daylight, Tyrannica crossed the chamber until she was standing by the back wall. Then she lifted a forepaw and paused for a brief moment as a flicker of dark violet energy crackled around her talons. Then she drove her claws down into the stone, and with a low rumble that could be felt throughout the mesa a thick vein of dark crystal began to form, growing down deep through the solid rock.

A moment later the vein of crystal reached the source of the power that Tyrannica had sensed, and all at once the purple dragoness felt a surge of power as the dark crystals channeled the ageless energy of the green spirit gem deposit that lay hidden in the stone. With this seemingly boundless store of energy now at her disposal, Tyrannica drove her glowing talons harder into the stone and in response a sharp crackling sound erupted within the silent chamber as multiple new, thin veins of dark crystal raced outward in all directions. They traced jagged lines across the stone as they crossed floor, walls and ceiling at a blistering pace, most of them disappearing down the passages leading out of the chamber but a couple of them meeting at a series of points on the ceiling. At these points larger formations of crystal began to emerge from the stone, emitting a strong glow that gradually drove away the darkness filling the caves until sight was no longer a problem.

Tyrannica maintained her control over her crystal power until she was satisfied that all of the cleared out passages would be similarly lit. Then she relaxed and pulled her talons from the stone floor, examining her work. Powered by the spirit gem cluster she had tapped into, the dark crystals would illuminate her new fortress for many months to come at the very least, and quite possibly even longer than that. And that was only the beginning of the potential uses her newfound power source would provide.

_Yes, I think this location will do quite nicely_, she thought with a feeling of smug satisfaction.

"_That is good,"_ a harsh, rumbling voice echoed within the confines of her mind without warning, causing Tyrannica to jolt in shock before growing rigid when she felt the hard, pulsating pressure at the base of her skull which was immediately recognizable. _"Because I suspect you will have strong need of it in the time to come."_

"Master," Tyrannica gasped, her voice slightly unsteady as she yet fought against her surprise. Then, certain that the great purple dragon was watching her through the stone ring, she bowed her head respectfully. "What are your orders for me?"

"_To the point,"_ Ragnor's disembodied voice rumbled. _"Good. I had feared you had let your focus waver during that...deviation at the mole village."_

She sensed an undertone of disapproval in the presence within her mind, and Tyrannica grew fearful that her master would exact some sort of punishment for her actions, but to her relief no such thing occurred.

"_No matter,"_ he growled deeply in what almost sounded like a sigh._ "Time passes us by, and you must focus now on the next stage of your mission. You still have much to accomplish before my release can be achieved."_

"What do you need me to do, Master?" Tyrannica asked without hesitation. "Rally your army? Strike against the dragons and those wretched traitors?"

"_Nothing quite so drastic yet,"_ Ragnor answered in his usual hard, unwavering tone. _"Instead you will send the wraiths out to scour the lands, but again without being seen. Your next task is to locate Spyro and, if possible, Nexus, as quickly as possible."_

Slightly surprised by this instruction, Tyrannica asked, "To kill them?"

To her even greater surprise, her master replied, _"No. Not yet, at least. As unexpected as this might be, for the time being we will need them both alive."_

"Alive?" Tyrannica repeated. "Why?"

"_You will learn the reason soon enough, my servant. All you need to know for now, though, is that their capture is essential. Find them and bring them to you, by whatever means necessary."_

"Yes, Master," the indigo dragoness answered sharply, her confusion replaced by hard resolve. "Don't worry. I will not let you down this time."

Ragnor made no reply. Instead the pressure at the back of Tyrannica's mind faded until it had vanished completely, leaving only a faint chill running through her being in its wake. Then, with a firm shake of her head, Tyrannica brought her focus fully to this new task at hand, and with a hard, purposeful air about her she set off back into the now fully illuminated passages to begin organizing scouting parties.

No matter what it took, she would not disappoint her master this time. Her gaze would sweep across the whole of the Dragon Realms, and she would not rest until the two pathetic traitors had been found and dragged before her. There would be no stopping it, and in her heart there now burned a fierce conviction. Their fates would be sealed, and when she found them she knew she would enjoy making them suffer for turning their backs on their purpose.

No matter how long it took or how hard they resisted, there was no longer anything that could save the two hated dragons that had once been called Ragnor's servants...

* * *

***Insert ominous music here***

**So, I know that this chapter may feel a bit fillery, especially after how long I made you wait for it, but rest assured there's a purpose to it. Everyone who read TBL knows that Spyro has to leave Warfang before anything bad can happen to him, after all. X)  
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**Also, about Spyro's reading trouble; I know what you're going to say:  
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**"But DM, he was able to write in Draconic for Claymore's memorial, so he should be able to read it already!"  
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**WRONG! I used my super omnipotent author powers to go back in time and change the past! *evil laugh* Now, poor Spyro is only literate in Common and dragonfly. How is this issue going to affect him, I wonder...?  
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**Anyway, that's all for now. Thanks for reading, and thanks for your patience. :)  
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**Until next time.  
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	9. Chapter 9: Sky Haven

**Well, hello again everybody. I have no legitimate excuse for why this took me so long to finish, so I will simply say I'm sorry for the wait. I hope the chapter is worth it, and while I can't guarantee that my next update will be quicker, I will try.  
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**In the meantime, I hope you enjoy chapter 9. Read on! :)  
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* * *

_Chapter 9: Sky Haven_

When it came to learning how to use an element, there was one fundamental lesson that every young dragon was taught right from the beginning: In order to control their element, they must first _understand_ it.

Understanding had never come as a problem to Nexus. It was what his mind was naturally geared towards; observing, studying, mimicking, and above all comprehending. It was impossible for one to impersonate another without knowing them at a core level after all, and the same principle applied to the control of his powers. To bend them to his will, he had to know instinctually what it was that made them work the way they did.

The challenge with the elements was that absolute understanding was almost impossible to achieve, because at the hands of a master an element's potential was practically limitless. Given enough time, discipline and practice, a dragon could always find new ways to utilize the powers that they had been granted at birth.

Fire dragons could conjure flames from out of the air itself, like Sirius could, and form them into whatever shape they commanded by nothing but will power; ice dragons that reached a high enough level of mastery could cover an entire desert in a blizzard at a whim, or topple the strongest fortress simply by expanding a bit of ice inside the right crevice; tales existed of electricity dragons who could not only call bolts of lightning from the very sky to strike down their enemies, but even control the electrical impulses that drove the muscles of any living being, allowing them to actually control the body of another. If a dragon could imagine it, it was quite possible that they could eventually do it—within reason of course.

But then there was earth, by far the most stubborn of any other element known to dragon kind. It was by nature solid and unmoving, and so to control it a dragon had to be even more so. True mastery of the earth element was something that very few dragons ever achieved. The Guardian Terrador was certainly an expert user of its power, but mostly that was just due to his sheer strength with it. None of the techniques Nexus had seen him use had been particularly imaginative, regardless of how effective they were.

As Nexus sat alone atop the crest of a flat, barren rock shelf that overlooked the endless ocean to the west, he found his thoughts dominated by this subject. By his nature he was always striving to better himself in the use of his powers, for under Ragnor's supervision this had been the sole purpose of his existence living in the Dark Realms. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, he trained. He pushed the limits of his abilities incessantly, always driving for more, never satisfied with what he already could do. It wasn't a desire. It was an instinctual drive that was rooted in the very core of his being.

In fire, ice and electricity he possessed an ability that could rival the Guardians, but earth had always been his weakness in terms of technical grasp. Even at a fundamental level its power was staggering, but its stubborn nature made progression in its use a struggle. There was a reason that earth missiles and pillars of stone were the best that many earth dragons ever achieved, but for Nexus that wasn't enough. Malefor had been able to levitate an entire temple in the sky for three years—albeit in pieces—and Nexus was determined to be able to do the same.

In what was a very common posture for him, he sat motionlessly with his eyes closed and his breathing set at a slow, measured pace, clearing his mind of any distracting thoughts. A moment later he slowly cracked his eyes open, fixing his gaze upon a rough piece of stone slightly smaller than his head that sat a couple of metres in front of him. Through his connection with the earth he could feel every crack and facet in its surface, could sense how it pressed against the ground beneath it, how its form affected its balance. In his mind he envisioned it rising up off of the plateau, suspended in the air, and with his breathing still at the same steady pace he began channelling his power into the task of turning that image into reality.

The resistance he immediately experienced was staggering. It felt as though the weight of the entire world was crushing down on him, fighting his efforts for the singular purpose of fighting. His muscles strained, his jaw clenching almost painfully as he struggled to lift the stone. He thought he saw the stone rattle, but it remained stubbornly connected to the ground.

Finally he couldn't maintain the effort any longer, and with a heavy gasp he surrendered his struggle and allowed his body to relax, trying to force his breathing back into the slow, steady rhythm it had been in before. He glared at the rock in front of him, bitter from his failure, but it simply sat there innocently. As if to punish it for its resistance, Nexus slapped a forepaw against the ground and watched the stone shatter into pieces.

"I need to get stronger," he muttered to himself.

"Strength may not always be the solution, young dragon."

Nexus jerked his head up at the sudden, unexpected voice, and his eyes quickly found Ignitus padding across the flat, weathered surface of the plateau toward him. His expression was calm and relaxed, but the purple dragon thought he saw a hint of sternness in the Chronicler's eyes.

"Not everything can be accomplished through brute force," he said with an air of seriousness.

Nexus gave a small grunt, a hint of a scowl crossing his face. "If you're here to lecture me you can save your breath."

"Not at all," Ignitus replied, stopping a few feet away from the smaller dragon and lowering himself into a seated position. "But I can see no harm in simply making an observation."

Nexus grunted again, studying the elder with a mixture of inquisitiveness and suspicion, as though he were a puzzle that needed to be solved to uncover his motivations.

"Like what?" he asked finally.

"Your power may be enough to set you apart from the ones around you," Ignitus answered him evenly. "But alone it can only get you so far. Some things cannot be accomplished with just your own strength."

Nexus gave a low snort, as though the other dragon had just said something foolish.

"My own strength is the only thing I can rely on," he said grimly, his gaze drifting off into the distance. "When you live the way I did, you learn fast that nothing will help you except your own ability and determination."

"Perhaps, but you are not in the Dark Realms anymore," Ignitus pointed out. "Things are no longer so simple."

Nexus said nothing in reply to this, but inside he felt only doubt.

_Since when was anything in that place simple?_ he wondered bitterly.

A moment passed in silence atop the stone ridgeline, the cold bite of the ocean wind chilling the atmosphere between the two dragons even more than it already was. It was a long time before either of them broke the silence that was disturbed only by the faint, distant rumble of the waves on the stony beach far below them, but finally Ignitus made another attempt to break the ice.

"What troubles you?" he asked, regarding the smaller dragon with a careful, studying gaze.

Nexus snorted again. "What do you think? You know perfectly well how messed up all of this is. Me here, the rest of the world blindly ignoring the danger that it's in, and Ragnor determined to crush me for betraying him. None of this is right. I was never supposed to be some renegade caught in the middle of two sides that would like nothing more than to see me dead. My whole life I had one single, clear purpose, but now...now I just don't know."

Ignitus nodded his head slowly, a look of deep thought in his expression.

"You feel lost."

Nexus considered this statement, immediately finding that it sat poorly with him. He didn't like that word. It was too vulnerable, as though it implied he was helpless in some way, but he realized that there was nothing else that could really describe the situation he was in.

"I guess so," he grunted finally. "I guess I just never pictured myself hiding like some coward, using my brother as bait for the retaliation we both know is coming." He let out a weary sigh. "Why couldn't that idiot just come quietly instead of making all of this so complicated?"

"Is that really all that you think of him?" Ignitus asked with a brow arched inquisitively. "That he is the cause of your troubles, and nothing more?"

Nexus looked up at Ignitus curiously, wondering what he was trying to get at with this question. What puzzled him more, however, was what he felt at these words. The answer that first came to mind was 'Yes', but something stopped him from saying it, something barely perceptible in his heart that he didn't quite know how to describe. Was it...guilt?

_That's stupid_, he thought with a scowl. _I don't feel guilt. I never have._

But despite telling himself this, the elusive feeling couldn't be shaken. Finally he let out a defeated sigh.

"I don't know," he said. "I mean, I do blame him for causing all of this mess, but at the same time a part of me doesn't. It's not really his fault that I had to go and get sentimental, is it? It was my own stupid mistake."

Ignitus's gaze took on a slightly stern edge, and he said, "Now why do I get the impression that you are simply saying that because you don't want to consider that the truth might be more complicated than that?"

"What are you talking about?" Nexus retorted, eyes narrowing. "What 'truth'? That's all there is to it. Ragnor wanted me to kill him, and I refused. I should have done it, but he _is_ my brother. What am I supposed to do, just forget that fact and take the guy out?"

"You could have."

"No, I couldn't," Nexus said sharply. "Look, I may not be a 'nice guy' or particularly care how many other people I killed doing what I was told, but I'm not just some monster that will turn on his own brother because someone else said to like some mindless drone. I'm not _that_ evil."

"What makes you say that you are evil at all?"

Nexus just stared at the Chronicler dubiously. "Are you really asking that question?"

"Yes. Just because you have done evil things, young one, that does not mean there is evil in your heart. You put your brother before yourself. Someone who is evil would not have done the same."

"But if I'm not evil, shouldn't I care about hurting all the people I did? Your precious books can tell you how many dragons died at my paws, how many lives I destroyed, but I don't feel anything."

"But you do care about hurting Spyro."

Nexus opened his mouth to make another retort, but he found that none came. Becoming doubtful again, his gaze hardened and fell to the ground, confusion entering him.

"Not really," he said slowly. "I mean...I don't really know what I feel about him."

For some reason that Nexus couldn't grasp, Ignitus seemed pleased by this answer. A small, knowing smile worked its way onto the corner of his muzzle, and he gave his head a small nod.

"I think you will discover in time that your feelings toward him are not as uncertain as you tell yourself they are. There is more in you than just darkness and hate, Nexus, and I believe that you will see that once you give yourself the chance."

Nexus turned another confused, suspicious look up at the elder dragon, but Ignitus was already rising to his paws and turning to leave, padding off toward the centre of the ethereal island and the temple that sat nestled there in secrecy. Once he had gone, Nexus was left alone with uncertainty churning in his gut. Feeling oddly troubled he turned his gaze back out over the ocean, trying to make sense of everything Ignitus had just said and to sort out his own conflicted feelings.

_What _do_ I feel?_ he wondered in the back of his mind.

To his growing frustration, he found that he didn't have an answer.

***.*.***

There was a deep, peaceful stillness in the air as morning dawned on the swamp. Most of the dragonfly village was utterly quiet as only a few of its residents were awake at such an hour, the rest happily wrapped in the comforting veil of sleep. It was such a striking contrast to the busy dragon city that Spyro and Cynder had left behind not long ago, but it was a pleasant sort of change.

When Cynder slowly returned to the waking world after a night spent in undisturbed slumber, she found herself enveloped in a feeling of contentment that was almost unfamiliar to her. The only time that she could remember that she had felt this at ease and peaceful was the month she and Spyro had spent in Bayside together, and for just a moment it caused her to feel a pang of sadness that so much of her life had been lost to fear, pain, darkness and violence. It made her want to savour this moment all the more now, and she wished that it could last forever.

With slow, lethargic movements the slender black dragoness lifted her head and cracked her eyes open, blinking them blearily a few times before her jaws opened wide in a long, deep yawn. Then once her vision settled into focus she took a quick look around at her surroundings, trying to place the unfamiliar sights in her mind.

She was encircled by tight, earthy walls that were a bit on the claustrophobic side, and it took her a few seconds to remember that she was lying inside the hollow that Spyro had apparently used as shelter at night during his childhood. Dug into the ground underneath a low mushroom cap and situated just beside the home that Sparx and his parents inhabited, it was very clear that it had been made with a much smaller Spyro in mind because even Cynder had been faced with a difficult time crawling into it the night before. But while it was small she couldn't deny the cozy feel of it, and she was almost amazed by how soundly she had slept, feeling completely secure with Spyro lying just outside like a personal protector...

_Wait. Where is Spyro?_

When Cynder looked out through the open front of the hollow she couldn't see any sign of the purple dragon, except for the small depression in the dirt that marked where he had spent the night. The sun had barely risen, so by all accounts he should have still been sleeping, but he was nowhere in sight.

Puzzled, Cynder eventually managed to pull herself out of the constricted hollow and spent a moment stretching her body out thoroughly before glancing around in hopes of spotting her purple companion. To her mild disappointment she found that he wasn't anywhere in the vicinity, and that left her with no ideas about where he might have gone. Still groggy and unsure of how to proceed in this predicament, Cynder simply sat down on her haunches and allowed her senses to drink in the serene morning atmosphere.

Her eyes drifted down toward the compacted patch of earth where Spyro had been lying during the night, and a soft smile crossed her muzzle briefly. It both amused and touched her when she thought about the way that he had insisted she spend the night in his hollow where she would be more comfortable while he braved the cold darkness without any shelter of his own. She hadn't given in easily, but in the end he had left her no choice, and this stubborn determination to put her welfare before his own was something that sent a feeling of warmth through the black dragoness's being.

Just then, however, she was suddenly jolted out of these thoughts when she heard the sound of tiny wings fluttering down beside her without warning. She snapped her head around to face the source, and when the intruder came into sight she was surprised to see that it was Nina.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the pink and green dragonfly said quickly at the sight of Cynder's defensive reaction. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay," Cynder replied with a soft chuckle, relaxing. "Just reflex."

Nina made a small sound of understanding, nodding her head. Then Cynder suddenly let out another yawn, and this time it was Nina's turn to laugh quietly.

"Sleep well?" she asked teasingly.

"Oh, best sleep I've had in ages," Cynder answered, giving a small smile before stretching her neck and shoulders to remove some of the lingering stiffness—it felt like she hadn't moved an inch the entire night long. "This place is just so peaceful, I feel like I could spend a week doing nothing else."

"Yes, I bet it is quite a bit different from that big dragon city."

Cynder gave a quick laugh, bobbing her head in agreement, but in the silence that followed she noticed that a strange look had entered the female dragonfly's expression, growing distant. The dragoness tilted her head to the side with a feeling of mild confusion.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Nina grunted, looking back at her draconic companion. Then, as though snapped out of a daze, she said, "Oh no. No, everything's fine. I was just thinking, is all."

"About what?"

"Oh, about how much things have changed," the pink dragonfly sighed. "It was such a delight to see you both arrive yesterday, of course, but it still comes as a bit of a shock when I think about the fact that the last time Spyro was here in this swamp he was barely more than a child. And now..."

Immediately Cynder understood what Nina meant, and a thoughtful look settled over her expression as she gave a small nod of her head. She had never really considered it like that before, but she could see how true it was. Even if three years had passed in between, it must have been quite jarring to have a son leave home as an innocent young one who knew nothing of the world beyond his home, then have him return afterward as a dragon of legend telling war stories for the entertainment of the villagers that he had just been reunited with.

_Not to mention one serious growth spurt, _Cynder added inwardly, glancing back at the hollow that she had barely managed to cram herself into and imagining how much harder it would have been for Spyro with his added mass.

"I don't know," Nina continued. "I just feel like he's changed so much more than I imagined he could since he left. As if he's become someone else, sometimes..."

She looked down as she spoke, and Cynder followed her gaze. She only realized then that the dragonfly mother was holding a tiny portrait in her hand, carved out of a slab of polished bark. Curious, the dragoness leaned her head closer to try and see what was on it, and when Nina noticed this she held it out so that Cynder could look at it for herself. Tentatively Cynder reached up and allowed Nina to set the portrait down in the centre of her forepaw, lowering her head closer to examine it.

What she saw was a family portrait of Sparx, Nina and Flash with Spyro sitting right beside them. He looked like barely more than a year-old hatchling—though he was still gigantic in comparison to the dragonflies—with his round body, stubby wings, and over-large paws and eyes. His smile was broad and full of youthful glee, and Cynder couldn't help the 'Aww,' that escaped her at the sight of the younger purple dragon's bright grin.

"He looks so happy," she remarked, smiling softly as she returned the portrait. "I don't know if I've ever seen him look that carefree."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Nina commented. "The way I see him smile when he's with you gets pretty close."

Cynder blinked in surprise before she felt her cheeks burning, and she quickly averted her gaze and shuffled her paws against the ground, letting out a soft, embarrassed laugh. Nina gave a knowing smile.

"I just wish I knew where he disappeared to," Cynder wondered aloud after a short silence passed. "He's been doing that a lot lately."

Nina turned an inquisitive look toward the black dragoness. "Really? How come?"

"Pressure of being famous," a new voice cut in suddenly, and Cynder stifled a groan of irritation as Sparx flitted down toward the two females from the entrance of the dragonfly home. "Which is why I kept bugging the guy to take some sort of vacation, but he just had too many important celebrity things he _had_ to do. The demands of being adored and all that." He gave a quick snort before adding as an afterthought, "Not that I'd know."

Cynder couldn't help the wry smirk that pulled at the corner of her mouth, and she shot a teasing glare up at the golden dragonfly.

"Because nobody appreciates the little fairy's work, right Sparx?"

"Ha-ha," Sparx said dryly, a sarcastic scowl on his face. "Don't make me whip out the D-name again, missy, because I can lay that one on you again in a heartbeat if you want it."

Cynder's eyes narrowed threateningly, and this time it was Sparx's turn to smirk before sticking his tongue out at her. However, before he could add in another taunt he was mercifully interrupted.

"Now now, son. I don't think this morning needs that kind of livening up just yet," Flash chuckled as he joined the group of three.

"And where's the fun in that?" Sparx retorted.

Cynder suppressed an exasperated groan and rolled her eyes. A small part of her had to secretly admit that she had found Warfang almost, _almost_ duller without Sparx's constant quips, but mostly she was looking forward to a few more days of not having to listen to him once she and Spyro left for the last leg of their flight north to Sky Haven. She was just glad that he hadn't barged in on the time she had managed to spend alone with Spyro the previous evening. The two dragons had found an ideal place, lounging atop one of the broad mushroom canopies with the book that they had brought from Warfang, Cynder beginning the task of gauging just how much Draconic Ignitus had managed to teach Spyro already while the setting sun bathed the swamp below in warm tones of red and orange.

Just at that moment, the sound of Nina speaking brought the black dragoness back to the present.

"Flash, you wouldn't happen to have seen Spyro this morning, would you?" she asked. "We've been wondering where he went."

"No, I haven't," the blue dragonfly answered, shaking his head apologetically. "Maybe he just went for a walk in the swamp. Visiting memories before he has to leave and the likes."

"I suppose that makes sense," Nina muttered thoughtfully. "But where, though?"

Flash merely shrugged, but at that very moment realization dawned on Cynder at the words 'visiting memories'. She snapped her head up, her eyes quickly finding Sparx, and by the look in his expression he had just had the exact same thought she had.

"Ohhh."

***.*.***

If silence were a sound, then in this place it would have been deafening.

It was as if all life had been sucked out of the land, whereas only scant steps earlier the swamp had been filled with the familiar noises of creatures scuttling through the underbrush or winging past overhead. The air felt unnaturally still, as if not even a breeze could exist in this place, and a dull chill lingered in spite of the rising sun. It was such a striking contrast to the calm, comforting atmosphere that had pervaded that same location before.

Spyro stood motionlessly at the edge of a sharp ridge in the landscape that he didn't remember being there. He didn't truly understand why he had come to this place. When he had woken up early that morning, just as the first rays of the sun were breaking past the horizon, he'd simply felt a compulsion within him to come see it. Almost by their own will, his paws had born him silently through the waking swamp to the site of the old, abandoned Temple.

Or at least, where it used to be.

Now all that he saw as he looked out from the ridge was a massive scar in the earth, as though the claws of some enormous titan had torn through it and ripped the ancient Temple right out of its lifelong resting place. He could almost imagine the sight of the stone and soil buckling and splitting as Malefor's evil power raised the place that had once been Spyro's sanctuary into the sky. Now barely any signs of the Temple's existence remained there at all.

His gaze drifted to his right, where under a cover of dust and creepers he saw the faded but recognizable form of one of the Temple's many decorative statues, much like the ones he'd had to return to their proper positions to open sealed doorways and passages. With a delicate paw he reached up and brushed the debris away from its surface before planting his forehead and horns against it and pushing to right it from the tilted position it had settled into over the years of neglect. Once finished he stepped back to examine it as it stood like some sort of memorial, a marker of what had once been.

A rustle of dried leaves behind him caused Spyro to start, but when he whipped his head around toward the intruder he was surprised to see that the face was familiar. Moving slowly, almost cautiously, the black and magenta dragoness stepped out from the shadow of the mushroom forest and up to Spyro's side. Behind her were Sparx and his parents, Flash and Nina bearing an air of nervousness from being so far out in the swamp. When the group of four reached the purple dragon's side, however, their expressions were all replaced by ones of shock.

"Whoa," Cynder muttered at the sight of the enormous crater.

"You can say that again," Sparx snorted, a tone of disbelief colouring his voice as he stared out over the scarred landscape. "Sheesh, what a mess."

"So...this is where the Temple that you lived in was?" Nina asked, an air of uncertainty about her.

Spyro gave a stiff nod, his eyes still glued to the scene before him. "Yep. This is where Ignitus took us when we first met him."

"Yeah. Kind of a dump, though," Sparx commented.

Spyro simply shrugged. "Maybe. But for a while it was home."

"You miss it," Cynder ventured gently.

Spyro turned his head toward her for a brief moment before his gaze returned to the remains of the Temple grounds, thoughtful.

"Yeah," he relented finally. "Like Sparx said, it wasn't much, but I think it was the place where things seemed the most...certain, I guess. I finally knew what I was, but I didn't have to worry about anything more than just getting through each day. So yeah, I liked it while we were there."

"Do you ever wish you could go back?" Cynder asked suddenly.

Spyro paused, caught off guard by the question, and he looked over at her to see that she was watching him with a deep, studying expression. Then, after a short moment, his eyes drifted back to the broken valley of stone ahead.

"I don't know," he said finally with a small shrug. "I guess...I never really considered going back to living like that. Things changed, and I just accepted that there was a reason for it. I just...went along."

"You need to think for yourself more, pal," Sparx quipped from behind the purple dragon.

Again Spyro paused, turning a small frown toward his dragonfly brother but Sparx merely gave him a shrug and a look that basically said, 'Just saying.' To this Spyro didn't quite know how to respond, and when he looked to Cynder for help she simply tilted her head to the side in a thoughtful motion, as if a part of her might have agreed with the dragonfly even if she wouldn't say it.

"To think that we never even knew about this place," Nina murmured, glancing between Spyro and the scarred landscape. "I wish we could have seen it."

"I bet it was really something," Flash commented, his arms crossed as he gazed out over the scant remains of the Temple grounds. "It would have been really interesting to see if we had known about it."

Cynder made an odd, uncertain sort of noise. "Well, maybe it's better you didn't, what with the apes that were roaming around the place before Spyro drove them out."

"Hey," Sparx said indignantly. "I helped too."

"Sure you did."

Sparx scowled and crossed his arms, muttering something under his breath. Spyro thought it sounded something like, "More help than you," but fortunately Cynder didn't seem to hear him, or at least if she did she made no indication of it.

"I suppose that's a fair point," Flash nodded in response to Cynder's comment, a hint of a wry smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Still, it's too bad we won't get the chance now," Nina commented.

A silence fell over the group for a time after that, but not long afterward Spyro glanced toward Cynder again and finally noticed a flash of brown against her black hide. He looked down and saw that she was carrying his bag with one wing hooked through the strap. When she noticed him looking at her she turned her gaze toward him, and he quickly met it before glancing up toward the brightening sky.

"I guess we should probably be getting on our way, huh?" he said as he looked back to Cynder again.

"Probably," Cynder nodded. "They'll be expecting us at the city, so we don't want to keep them waiting."

Spyro made a thoughtful grunt and nodded his head in agreement before reaching up with a paw to take the bag from Cynder. After checking to make sure that everything was inside he pulled it over his head with the barb of his wing and began tightening the strap.

"It's too bad that you have to leave so soon," Nina said in a reluctant tone. "It would be nice to get the chance for a longer visit sometime."

"Yeah, it would," Spyro agreed, giving his parents an apologetic smile as he finished with the strap.

"Well, maybe we can convince the Guardians to give you a week or two off sometime before too long," Cynder piped in.

"Yeah, you have to have earned that much," Sparx nodded. "Hero business can wait for the hero to get to it on his own time, I say."

Spyro grinned. "It would be nice if it worked that way." Then he turned his gaze to his foster parents again. "But I promise I'll try to work something out."

"We'll hold you to that, son," Flash declared. "But for now duty calls, so you'd best get on with it. Will we see you on the return trip?"

"We might manage to stop for a little bit," Spyro replied, glancing toward Cynder for confirmation and the black dragoness nodded her head.

"Well then we'll hope to see you then," Nina said brightly.

"Take care, buddy," Sparx told his dragon brother, waving a hand. "And for the love of the Ancestors try and stay out of trouble for once, alright?"

"Alright Sparx," the purple dragon laughed.

He looked over at his parents again, and the two dragonflies gave soft smiles before hovering over and giving their son a quick embrace on his snout. When they pulled back they spent a moment just considering him.

"Take care, son," Flash said finally, giving Spyro one last pat on the brow.

"Yes, be careful," Nina added. "You never know what you might find out there. But I hope you enjoy the trip, too. Being an official envoy to another dragon city sounds exciting."

"We're both very proud of you."

Spyro felt his smile stretch wider. "Thanks Mom, Dad."

His parents smiled back, nodding their heads.

"We'll see you soon," Flash said.

Spyro and Cynder both nodded before spreading their wings in preparation for takeoff, turning to the north.

"Thanks for everything," Cynder said over her shoulder.

"You're very welcome," Nina replied. "Goodbye, both of you. Be safe."

"We will," Spyro said with a firm nod. Then, as one, he and Cynder took to the air and climbed rapidly into the sky, leaving the three dragonflies watching them go in their wake. Within moments they had vanished from sight as the two dragons put the village behind them and set out on the final stretch of their journey.

As with the two previous days, the flight was calm and uneventful. The conditions weren't as pleasant as they had been previously, with the sky partially overcast and a moderate crosswind making the effort to stay on course more tiring than it had been before, but neither of the young dragons found they could complain. The wind was only a minor nuisance, and even though the clouds blocked out considerable portions of the sky they lent to some spectacular vistas when the sunlight streamed through whatever gaps it could find, casting the world in a splotchy pattern of light and shadow. In some ways it made the landscape more interesting to look at than it would have been under a clear sky.

For hours they flew, exchanging only brief words with each other, both of them content in the warm, silent company that the other provided. The route they followed was the same one that Spyro had flown on his way to Tall Plains from the Temple three years before, and so the pair didn't have to devote much attention to where they were going. They simply enjoyed the sights laid out before them as the swamp below them gave way to grassland, which then gave way to forests filled with life.

They passed flocks of brightly coloured birds that studied the dragons inquisitively as their paths crossed—though they kept a careful distance from them—and saw herds of deer grazing in the clearings and meadows nestled within the stands of trees. At one point Cynder spotted a tiny cluster of low wooden huts amongst the trees, and when the two dragons made a low pass over them they saw foxes sitting outside of the dwellings in the shade of the trees. A young red-furred pup caught sight of their forms soaring past overhead and waved excitedly. Spyro smiled and waved back with a forepaw, and beside him he heard Cynder give a small chuckle as she also returned the gesture.

It was just as the sun was beginning its descent toward the western horizon that the landscape changed again. Gradually Spyro and Cynder began to see outcroppings of bare grey stone jutting out from the forest canopy, growing larger and more frequent until they were surrounded on all sides by sheer cliffs. This was where their route deviated from the path to Tall Plains, and after consulting the map they had brought along Spyro angled to the east, slowly climbing higher in the sky as the cliffs around them grew larger and larger. Soon enough the ground was merely an indistinct green and grey blur far below them, and still the rock peaks towered above them.

"It really is impressive how tall these things are," Cynder noted, her eyes scanning the towering stone walls as they flew past.

"Yeah, it is," Spyro nodded. Then he shivered as a gust wind brushed across his scales. "Kind of cold up here though, isn't it? I hope it's warmer at the city."

"Me too. But somehow I doubt it. It must be brutal in the winter."

Spyro nodded again. "Yeah, I bet. Oh well. I'm sure we'll manage."

They continued in this fashion for a time, trusting their map as they wound their way through the cliffs. The sky continued to slowly darken overhead, and although there was still a couple of hours until night fell the two dragons picked up their pace, neither of them particularly keen on the idea of getting stranded outside in the dark with so little shelter available. They were high enough up by now that it would take them several minutes to descend to ground level if the need came to stop for the night, which meant that the climb back up in the morning would be even longer.

To their relief they soon spotted a key landmark that the Guardians had informed them of ahead, though; a magnificent arch of stone that had been polished to perfect smoothness by the mountain winds. Framed by this arch was a broad, towering stone butte, its faces dotted with plateaus, ledges, overhangs and other features that leant quite a bit of character to it. It was nothing particularly special in comparison to the cliffs around it, but its positioning in the middle of a field of lower stone formations leant an air of importance to it.

"That has to be it," Spyro said eagerly.

"Looks like it," Cynder agreed with a smile forming on her muzzle, apparently glad that their destination was finally in sight. "Come on, race you to it!"

"What?" Spyro blurted, caught off guard by the challenge, but by then Cynder was already racing ahead, laughing gleefully. "Hey, wait up!"

They raced through the sky at a near reckless pace, their laughter ringing off of the cliffs. They sped through the arch as a pair of blurs, Spyro straining as hard as he could to keep up with the leaner, more streamlined dragoness. For a moment it seemed as if he stood no chance of victory, Cynder's lead growing steadily, but then inexplicably the purple dragon began to gain on her. Something had caused her pace to waver, but Spyro wasn't about to stop and wonder what it was now. Slowly, with great effort, he caught up to her before pulling into the lead, laughing triumphantly.

"Come on, Cynder, don't give up now!" he teased playfully, grinning broadly as he glanced back at her over his shoulder. "You aren't going to let me win that easily, are you?"

However, just then he faltered when he finally noticed her expression. Her eyes were narrowed with some sort of mixture of confusion and suspicion, and she was glancing around as though wary of some kind of threat. Puzzled, Spyro relaxed his pace so that he was no longer pulling away from her, wondering what her trouble could be.

"What is it?" he asked.

She didn't answer. Her eyes were scanning their surroundings as though she expected an attacker to leap out at them at any moment. Spyro knew this expression by now, having seen it on her often during the many battles they had fought side by side, and all at once he felt a sense of tension growing in his gut. He swept his gaze over the walls of rock that surrounded them, but he saw nothing.

"Cynder?" he asked again. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she answered slowly, distractedly. "Something doesn't feel right..."

"What do you mean?" Spyro said, a brow arcing in confusion. "I don't feel anything."

Cynder gave no reply again, her frown deepening as she scanned the sky uneasily. Then, suddenly, her eyes flew wide open as a look of realization—and evident fear—came over her features.

"Spyro, wait!" she exclaimed frantically, darting forward as if to try and grab him. "Stop!"

The purple dragon opened his mouth to ask what the matter was, but he never got the chance. Without any warning at all he was struck by what felt like a wall of bricks and was hurled sharply downward and to the right. For a sickening moment he was gripped by disorientation, his world spinning crazily as some sort of unearthly howling sound assaulted his eardrums. It took him a long moment to realize that he had been caught in a powerful wind stream that was driving him away from the butte ahead, dragging Cynder along right behind him, but where had this wind come from? How could it have hit so suddenly?

Just then he caught sight of a looming wall of stone ahead, jagged and deadly-looking, and he realized with a plunging feeling in his stomach that the wind was driving the two dragon right for it. Gritting his fangs, he twisted his wings and managed to right himself with a great deal of difficulty, but he was powerless to escape the grip of the savage wind. No matter how hard he beat his wings he couldn't break free of it, and right beside him Cynder was faring no better. They were trapped.

"Spyro, look!" Cynder exclaimed suddenly, her voice barely reaching him past the roaring of the wind. She pointed with a forepaw, and Spyro followed with his eyes to see that the path of the wind would carry them right past a rough plateau of stone on their way to the lethal cliff. They were racing toward it at a frightening speed, and after they passed it they would have scarcely a second before they were slammed against the unforgiving rock.

"Grab on to me!" he shouted at the top of his lungs without hesitating, knowing that they only had one chance now.

He stretched a forepaw out toward the black dragoness, pounding his wings frantically to close the distance between them. Cynder reached for him, grasping desperately for his paw, but she was just barely out of reach. She wasn't one to accept defeat readily, however, and with a sharp snarl she gave a final lunge and crashed roughly into Spyro, fastening her forelegs around his shoulders to keep the wind from tearing her away again. Immediately Spyro spun himself and Cynder around and angled his nose toward the plateau.

_This is going to be close_.

"Get ready!" Cynder cried as the shelf of stone raced toward them, and Spyro felt her body tense as she summoned up as much power as she could manage. All at once he realized what she was planning, and he braced himself.

He felt a sharp lurch as Cynder unleashed a focussed blast of her wind element, resisting the merciless pull of the jet stream with all her might. The lull only lasted a split second, but that was all that was needed for the two dragons to drop the couple of metres that could spell the difference between life and death. They smashed into the plateau with bone-rattling force, but Spyro was ready for the impact and the instant he felt the stone hit his scales he snapped his paws out and dug his claws into the plateau with all his strength, save for the one forepaw that he kept wrapped around Cynder like his life depended on it—or hers, as the case may be. Cynder likewise grabbed on to the plateau, but the vicious wind battered them with the strength of a golem. Though he held on to the rock for all he was worth, Spyro soon felt himself and Cynder slipping.

"Spyro!" Cynder cried frantically as the wind dragged them slowly across the plateau, their talons digging thin gouges in the stone.

Seized by desperation, Spyro opened his jaws and fired a glowing orb of green energy into the plateau. Immediately a thick slab of rock burst upward directly in front of the two dragons, shielding them from the brunt of the wind's force, but even with this barrier in place the wind's grip on them was fierce as it clawed at their flanks and wings. It took all of their strength to keep from being dragged out from behind the rock slab, and Spyro could feel his power draining quickly as he fought against the wind with everything he had.

"I can't hold it!" he snarled through clenched jaws.

The words had only just left his mouth when his rock shield gave a laboured groan and a number of jagged pieces tore away from its edges, ripped free by the pounding gale. Spyro winced as one of the pieces whipped past his side, leaving a thin scrape in the membrane of his wing, and he felt Cynder press tighter against his side as more chunks of rock flew past her as well. His mind raced frantically, searching for any means of escape, but he could see no way of breaking free of this channel of wind before it dashed them against the cliff that loomed behind them.

With a violent shudder the stone barrier became riddled with a web of cracks, and another wave of debris was torn from its edges. Spyro strained to hold it together, and beside him he could feel Cynder trying desperately to use her own powers to cushion the force of the wind against the rock, but despite their efforts he could feel the barrier weakening at an alarming rate. In only a matter of moments, it would fail.

_How do we get out of this!_ he cried in his mind. _What do we do?! Think!_

The shield gave another sharp tremor, the cracks in its surface worsening. Spyro lurched forward with a strained grunt and planted his forepaws against the buckling shield, digging in with his hind paws to keep from slipping, and Cynder's grip on him tightened to help steady him, but deep inside Spyro knew it was futile. The stone was cracking faster than he could knit it back together with his powers, drawing nearer and nearer to the point of failure. He had never felt so helpless as he did in that moment, unable to do anything except wait for the shield to break and sweep him and Cynder away amidst a cascade of rubble. After all that the two of them had survived together, they were powerless now to escape their ends from a freak act of nature.

Then the rock shield lurched violently, its core splintering, and Spyro closed his eyes tight and gritted his fangs, waiting for the wind to tear him from his perch...

But it didn't. It took a moment for him to realize it, but everything had inexplicably gone silent. Slowly Spyro opened his eyes, looking up to see that the stone shield was still standing, leaning heavily against his forepaws on the verge of collapse, and Cynder was still pressed against his side with a similar look of confusion on her face. For a reason he couldn't fathom, the wind had just stopped.

The sound of a paw brushing against the plateau caused the two dragons to jolt in surprise, and out of instinct Spyro summoned his powers and prepared an earth blast to hurl the remnants of their stone shield at the intruder, but when his eyes found the source of the noise he froze. Beside him Cynder likewise faltered, the glob of poison receding from between her jaws.

"By the Ancestors, are you both alright?"

Spyro blinked dumbly at the dragon standing before them, garbed in a set of light bronze armour and peering at them with two large, sky blue eyes filled with evident concern and a not-insignificant amount of shock. His misty grey scales glittered in the waning sunlight, his over-large white wings half-extended for stability on the precarious stone shelf like he had only just landed. There seemed to be nothing threatening about his bearing, but Spyro still didn't relax.

"Who are you?" he asked in confusion.

"Aeolus, of the Sky Haven City Guard," the wind dragon replied immediately, the look of surprise and what almost looked like embarrassment still clinging to his narrow features. "And on behalf of my city, I offer my sincerest apologies for this terrible mistake. While we were expecting an envoy from Warfang to be arriving, we had no idea it would be the two of you, and we certainly didn't think this would happen. Are either of you hurt?"

"No, we're fine," Cynder said slowly, though her tone was still suspicious. "What do you mean, mistake? Were you behind that wind gust?"

"Not me, no," the guard replied quickly. "It's one of the city's main defensive mechanisms, although I have no idea why it would have triggered for you two."

"Defence mechanism?" Spyro repeated, becoming more puzzled by the minute. "What do you mean?"

"I won't trouble you with an explanation here," Aeolus replied. "I'm sure that can wait for a more appropriate setting. For now, if you both are sure you're alright, I would be glad to escort you to the city now."

"Whoa, hold on," Cynder cut in, her gaze hard. "First this 'defence mechanism' of yours tries to kill us, and now you're just going to turn around and welcome us into your city just like that? Forgive me for thinking that something's not adding up here."

Spyro remained silent, keeping his gaze impassive, but inside he couldn't help but agree with Cynder. His first impression of Aeolus so far was that he was he was as he appeared—a simple guard flustered over a misunderstanding—but his past experiences wouldn't let him relax. Not yet, at least.

"I understand," the guard said to Cynder in a diffusing tone. "And I don't blame you for being suspicious, but I assure you that your questions will all be answered once we reach the city. Don't worry, you can pass now. Please, follow me."

He didn't give the dragons any more chance to argue, spreading his large wings out and leaping into the air. Spyro and Cynder lingered for another uncertain moment, exchanging glances, but at length Spyro gave a small shrug. Cynder sighed resignedly before extending her wings to take off. Wasting no more time, Spyro jumped up from the rock plateau, cringing inwardly as he half-expected the vicious winds to seize him in their grasp again. When that didn't happen he let out a faint sigh of relief, then caught sight of Aeolus hovering a number of feet away and moved to join him, Cynder following right off his tail.

Once the two young dragons had reached him, the wind dragon guard wheeled nimbly about in the air and flapped off toward the towering spire of stone that contained the hidden city. Though he still held a nagging doubt in the back of his mind, with each beat of his wings Spyro took he felt himself relaxing slowly. Soon enough the three dragons had crossed half the span to the city without further disturbance.

"So...where is the city anyway?" Cynder asked a moment later, an edge of suspicion still held in her voice. "Because I don't see anything that looks like a city anywhere."

"Don't worry, it's here," the guard chuckled. "Here, allow me to show you."

He steered the two younger dragons toward the tip of one of the peaks ahead, coming to a hover a couple of metres back from it. Then he turned to face his two charges.

"You may want to cover your ears," he told them.

Spyro and Cynder both gave puzzled frowns, but the wind dragon simply smirked knowingly before turning to the stone peak and hovering closer to it. As Spyro inspected the peak he noticed that a series of smooth channels had been worn through the rock, and as he watched Aeolus leaned his head down toward one such opening. Then he sucked in a deep breath of air, and before Spyro could begin wondering what he was about to do he blew it all out in a focussed gust of wind.

Almost immediately the air was shaken by a deep, resonating tone, and Spyro gave a pained yelp before clapping his forepaws over his ears. Evidently the shaped channels in the rock functioned like an oversized horn, emitting a powerful note—or rather, a chord of notes—that Spyro could feel shaking his very bones. Despite the painful ringing in his ears, though, the purple dragon couldn't help but find that there was something majestic about the sound, and he doubted that the creation of those air channels was just some accident of nature.

Finally, the deafening tone faded into a mere echo bouncing off of the surrounding cliffs and Spyro tentatively lowered his paws. Then, a moment later, he heard a distant, low rumbling sound. Confused, he looked toward the towering butte ahead and faltered when he saw a number of dark, arched openings appearing in the cliff face behind many of the rock structure's plateaus, looking as if the solid cliffs were melting back into the interior of the stone monolith. Soon afterward Spyro could see what looked like warm torchlight spilling out from the still-forming openings.

"Welcome to Sky Haven," Aeolus declared smugly at the sight of their shocked expressions.

Neither Spyro nor Cynder found that they could reply, and so Aeolus simply led them in silence the rest of the way to the revealed city. He steered them toward the largest plateau on the southern side of the butte and within only a couple of minutes the three dragons were gliding down for a landing upon the wide platform. As they touched down, two more guards in similar armour to Aeolus stepped out onto the platform from the archway ahead. These two were earth dragons instead of wind, but were leaner and less bulky than the earth dragons that Spyro was familiar with from Warfang.

_Well, that explains the moving rock_, Spyro thought.

"I see we have guests," the larger of the newcomers commented, his gaze taking in the two adolescents before him. There was a look of surprise in his features, but it barely showed past his firm, professional demeanour.

"Yes sir," Aeolus replied quickly with a nod. "The Gale Stream appears to have triggered accidentally as they were approaching the city. When I investigated and saw that it was the purple dragon from Warfang, I dismissed the Stream and sounded the all clear."

"That is strange," the earth dragon murmured slowly. "There was no sign of any other intruders that might have caused the defence to trigger and catch them by mistake?"

"None, sir. It was only them out there."

"Strange," the other guard—who seemed to be a figure of authority in the city's Guard forces—repeated. Then he turned a mildly suspicious look toward the two visitors, studying them as though searching for signs of a threat. "I take it that you two are the envoys the Guardians said would be arriving?"

Spyro nodded. "We are."

He pulled the sealed message from his leather bag and held it out in one forepaw. The earth dragon guard gazed upon it with interest before stepping forward and taking it from the smaller purple dragon. Holding it up so that the light of the slowly setting sun highlighted the seal, he spent a brief moment examining the official communication. Finally he gave a small nod of his head.

"Wait here," he said simply, and with that he turned about and disappeared through the shaded archway and into the passages beyond, leaving Spyro and Cynder in the sole company of the two remaining guards.

"What are we waiting for?" Cynder asked Aeolus after a moment passed in silence.

"The city official who has been assigned to welcome you into the city," Aeolus replied. "I'm sure you understand that in the wake of the Gale Stream's triggering there are precautions that must be taken, which is why we can't lead you to him right away I'm afraid. But don't worry: Once it's confirmed that the message you presented is indeed the official communiqué from the Guardians, Councillor Kaver will be out in short order to greet you and guide you to your accommodations."

"I see," Spyro nodded slowly, wondering what sort of dragon this 'Councillor Kaver' would be. Would he be friendly, or aloof? Welcoming, or irritable for being stuck with greeting duty?

He resigned himself to simply wait and see, taking this chance to rest his tired wings from the long flight, for despite having the chance to rest in the swamp they still ached terribly from the three days of straight flapping. He was almost dreading the return journey, and only hoped that by the time the day of their departure arrived his wings would have had enough of a chance to recover. He pushed that worry from his mind, however, instead letting his body relax as he gazed out over the western horizon, watching the sun creep ever closer to the earth and painting the clouds close overhead in a wondrous assortment of colours. Cynder sat close by his side, drinking in the incredible vista with him, both young dragons savouring the moment of quiet together.

They were only broken from the peaceful view when the sound of claws scraping against stone reached their ears a number of minutes later, and both Spyro and Cynder turned their heads back toward the entrance into the cliff just as two dragons emerged from it, one of them the same guard from before and the other a tall wind dragon garbed in an elegant green and grey robe made of thick material that helped to protect against the high-altitude chill.

His scales were a milky grey-white, four horns of a faint blue-tinged colour framing his angular head, while a sweeping frill of a similar, though slightly more faded, colour ran from the top of his head down his spine, disappearing under his robe and reappearing at his tail. His eyes were a light hazel colour that gave off a kind of warmth, and when he caught sight of the city's two visitors a smile grew on his features that served to dispel some of Spyro's earlier anxieties.

"Well, this is certainly a most pleasant surprise," the dragon declared as he drew to a halt a few paces away from Spyro and Cynder. "We are honoured to have guests as distinguished as yourselves as envoys here in our city. Allow me to introduce myself. Councillor Kaver, at your services."

He gave a deep bow of his head at these last words, which caught Spyro very much unprepared but at the same time caused his impression of this dragon to warm considerably. Cynder leaned in closer to him a second later.

"I like him," she whispered. Spyro gave a small grin.

"We're glad to meet you," he told the older dragon.

"The pleasure is mine," Kaver replied, straightening and flashing another smile that radiated likeability. "Now, if you would both like to follow me I would be glad to show you where you will be staying while you're here."

"We'd appreciate that," Spyro said with a weak chuckle, shifting his still-aching wings against his sides.

Kaver also chuckled understandingly, and he began turning about to lead the two younger dragons inside, but then suddenly he hesitated. He looked back at the guests, an almost guilty look crossing his features.

"Oh, there is one thing," he said sheepishly. "Since we were only expecting a single envoy to arrive from Warfang, we only have one guest room prepared. We can prepare a second room for you, of course, but there will be a delay before we can have it ready."

Spyro paused and looked questioningly toward Cynder, considering the options. Cynder met his gaze with a thoughtful one of her own, but only a second later a hint of a smile formed at the corners of her lips.

"I don't mind sharing if you don't," she told him, a coy note in her tone.

Spyro couldn't keep the half-embarrassed smile off of his own muzzle at her words, and with another soft chuckle he looked back up at Kaver.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "We're alright."

An amused-looking grin tugged at the corner of the councillor's mouth, and he nodded his head to the purple dragon. "Very well. Follow me then, young ones. I'm sure you would both appreciate the chance to rest after your journey to get here. The room isn't far from here."

"That's good to hear," Cynder said wearily, and Kaver let out a quiet laugh.

"I thought it might be. Don't worry, we'll be there in no time at all. This way."

With that the wind dragon began padding back across the plateau toward the arch that served as the city's gateway, and after giving a nod of farewell to Aeolus Spyro followed after him, Cynder right beside him each step of the way. While both of them still harboured lingering traces of suspicion over the incident that had just transpired, they were both too tired to pass up the notion of a comfortable place to rest, and Kaver's exuberant warmth made such doubts even harder to maintain.

With weariness rapidly catching up to them both, Spyro and Cynder both followed gratefully as Kaver led them into the city's interior, simply glad that the first stage of their newest journey had reached its end and eager to see just what the remainder of their trip would have in store for them both.

In the morning, Sky Haven awaited.

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**And that's all for now. Hope it was worth the wait. There's a twist of sorts to come in the next chapter, so I hope you'll still be hanging around by then. :)**

**Until next time.  
**


	10. Chapter 10: A New Day

**Update time at last!**

**I'll just add in what seems to have become my usual apology at this point for how long the wait for this chapter was. University is one heck of a time-monopolizer. That, and this chapter didn't want to get written for some reason.**

**But, it's here. Actually, both it and the next one are. So, as a reward for your patience, there will be two new chapters in this round of updates. Surprise! :)**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

_Chapter 10: A New Day_

"Spyro, just admit it. You don't know where you're going."

"I'm sure this is right, though. Kaver said that we just had to take the first set of stairs on the left, then the second right—"

"Third."

"What?"

"It was the _third_ right after the stairs."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well you could have mentioned that sooner!"

Cynder could only chuckle at the half amused, half flustered expression on her purple companion's face as the young duo padded slowly along one of the sequestered city's many tunnel-like corridors. To the two dragons' chagrin, the immaculate passages that were formed out of the towering spire's bedrock were arrayed in a twisting network that was more akin to a labyrinth than anything else, and it had only taken them moments after leaving their shared chamber to find themselves lost. In the nearly half hour that had passed since this realization had dawned on them they had been wandering the maze of hallways endlessly, trying in vain to find their way back to the route they were meant to take to reach the small guest dining hall for breakfast. So far they'd had no success.

"Well, this is a great way to start off our visit here," Spyro grunted with a small laugh. "I hope Kaver isn't getting too impatient."

"It'll be fine," Cynder replied, nudging his shoulder reassuringly with her wing and still grinning at his anxiety. "He seemed like a pretty easygoing type yesterday."

Spyro nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right. I just don't know how much longer I can last at this rate."

His stomach gave a loud rumble to reinforce his point, causing the purple dragon to falter in embarrassment. Cynder laughed, bumping him on the shoulder again.

_Males and their stomachs_, she chuckled inwardly. _Unbelievable_.

Despite her amusement, though, Cynder couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Spyro, feeling somewhat responsible for their situation for not having spoken up when they had made the wrong turn in the corridors. However, in her defence, she hadn't known at the time that they had strayed off course. Exhausted as she was from the trip, it had taken longer than normal for her mind to clear from the grogginess of sleep, and so when Spyro had led them down what would end up being the wrong path she hadn't realized the mistake until he had spoken just now.

_Oh well_, she thought. _Nothing we can do about that now. Besides, it could be worse._

She glanced up and to her right as she and Spyro passed by one of the beautifully-carved arched windows that opened up to the stunning vista beyond the sheltered walls of the butte, letting in the crisp, high-altitude morning air that sent an invigorating shiver down Cynder's spine as it gently caressed her scales. Had they not been pressed for time to reach their destination she would have liked to stop for a moment and take in the view, for it was indeed a spectacular one. The crystal-clear air almost glowed in the light of the steadily rising sun, highlighting the various other peaks and cliffs in the area. For a dragon there was something that just felt _right_ about the whole atmosphere of the place, looking out over the world from above. Had she the choice and had she not grown as attached to Warfang as she was, she could easily see herself living in such a place as this.

_And I haven't even seen the actual city itself yet_, she snorted to herself.

Finally, after another fruitless ten minutes of wandering, Spyro swallowed his embarrassment and asked a passing guard—an earth dragon in armour just like the two that had met them at the city's main 'gate'—for assistance. Once they had received directions to the dining hall from the powerful green dragon, who looked at the same time honoured to be speaking with the legendary purple dragon and greatly amused by their predicament, they thanked him and hurried off through the corridors once more.

It took them another few minutes, but at last the walls around them fell away to reveal a small-ish courtyard nestled inside of a round cave that had clearly been worked on by earth dragons, the gently curving walls far too smooth to be natural. Three corridors led out of the courtyard at right angles to each other; the one that Spyro and Cynder had just entered from, plus two others on their left and right, each one flanked by a pair of brightly-burning torches set atop stone pedestals that provided both plentiful light and warmth within the chamber. Rounded paving stones arranged in a circular pattern formed the floor of the space, decorative shrubs of various types growing out of simple clay pots set against the walls. On the opposite side of the courtyard from the two dragons, where no corridor led out, stood a simply-built square structure formed out of sandy-brown stone, warm light spilling out invitingly from the open doorway and windows.

"Whew," Spyro panted lightly after their short run. "That's a welcome sight. I'm starving after yesterday."

"Me too," Cynder agreed, feeling her stomach twinge insistently. Neither she nor Spyro had been able to eat much the previous evening, their appetites dulled by the exertion of their flight and the after-effects of adrenaline following their close call with the Gale Stream. Now their hunger had fully caught up with them both. "Come on, the food isn't going to come to us."

Spyro grinned quickly before stepping out into the courtyard, jogging across to the entrance to the dining hall with Cynder following right on his tail. They had only barely crossed the threshold when a friendly call reached their ears.

"Well, there you both are!" Councillor Kaver exclaimed jokingly from one of the low stone tables near the centre of the simple but cozy eating space. He beckoned them both over with a wave of his wing. "I was afraid you had disappeared on us during the night."

"Sorry," Spyro apologized sheepishly as he and Cynder made their way across the room to join the other dragon at the table, sitting down side by side across from the councillor on a pair of worn but comfortable cushions. "We got a little lost trying to find our way here."

"We?" Cynder teased.

"Yes, we," Spyro retorted, also with a grin. "I didn't hear you say anything to stop us going the wrong way."

"Oh, details," Cynder said with mock exasperation, rolling her eyes at him.

Across the table Kaver gave a low chuckle before waving a paw toward a small doorway in the back wall of the dining hall, catching the attention of a serving dragon standing there who promptly disappeared into the darker chamber beyond the door. Then he turned his gaze back toward the younger dragons, pushing the empty platter that was sitting in front of him out of the way and leaning forward slightly—clearly he had eaten a good while before the young guests had arrived. Cynder noticed as he shifted his position that the formal council robes he had been wearing the day before had been replaced by a lighter, plain grey covering that only fell to his knees and elbows. His expression was just as light and informal as his attire, showing no signs that the wind dragon was perturbed by being kept waiting, something that was swiftly confirmed when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't either of you be too concerned about your tardiness," he told them in a warm, easy tone. "As you both already know, there's no official business that we need to worry about until late tomorrow morning, so we're in absolutely no rush for anything today. If I understand things correctly, you've both been kept pretty busy back in the dragon capital, yes? Today is simply a well-deserved day off for the both of you, then."

Cynder was slightly surprised by this news, and it looked to her like Spyro was as well. "There's nothing we need to do at all?"

"We were expecting some kind of envoy functions that we were going to have to do before the vote tomorrow," Spyro added.

"Not today," Kaver replied with a smile. "You're both still too young to be burdened down with all the nitty-gritty little details of inter-city relations anyway. All of that political back and forth has already been taken care of by the earlier envoys that both Warfang and we have been employing up until now. Really your presence here is just a formality for the treaty vote. There isn't much doubt about what the verdict of it is going to be anyway."

Cynder was again surprised by the nonchalant tone that Kaver was using. With him being a member of the city's governing council she had been expecting him to be more concerned with the formal, accepted protocols that a meeting between representatives of different city states would normally entail. She'd witnessed a little of that sort of thing with the Guardians in Warfang over the last few months. She had been expecting schedules, meetings with various authority figures, tours, briefings, or any manner of other—pointless, in her opinion—pleasantries. But Kaver was just waving that all off as if none of it was of any concern, as if she and Spyro were just any two dragons stopping by for a visit. Was that why there had been no concerns about the two of them performing this task for the Guardians, when their experience in such official matters was negligible at best?

She thought that this must have been the case, but those thoughts were interrupted when the serving dragon appeared at their table with two trays of food balanced rather skillfully on his forepaw and tail. He set them down on the table in front of Spyro and Cynder before bowing his head respectfully and departing. Without delay the two young dragons set to work devouring their meal, which consisted of some form of roasted mountain grouse and soft tubers that had a surprisingly enticing taste. Despite her hunger, though, Cynder forced herself to eat at a measured pace to avoid being rude in front of Kaver, Spyro doing the same beside her.

"So what will we be doing today, then?" Spyro asked, pausing briefly in his breakfast.

"That depends on what you both would like to do," Kaver replied. "One of the most obvious things would be to show you around the city, but given that Sky Haven is only a small city at present that won't take long. Other than that, it's simply a matter of what you would like to see."

"What sorts of things are there to see here?"

"Plenty," Kaver answered with a proud grin. "Only a short flight from here there is a spectacular high-altitude lake atop one of the larger mesas, which has become a very popular site for the city's young ones. Then there are the sparring grounds beneath us that the City Guard uses for training, but which are also home to Sky Haven's thunderball arena, and even farther beneath that are the crystal caverns, where there are enough spirit gem deposits to support a city three times the size of Warfang for a hundred years at least."

Cynder and Spyro both paused in their meals to gape at Kaver at those last words, which elicited a brief chuckle from the councillor.

"But my point is, there's plenty available to occupy the day for us. So why don't you two hurry up and finish eating and I'll give you the grand tour to begin with, if that's what you would like?"

"Sounds good to me," Spyro said, and Cynder nodded eagerly in agreement before resuming eating at a renewed pace, excitement growing inside of her to see the things that Kaver had mentioned.

Only a few minutes later the two young dragons had completely emptied their trays, and after taking a moment to thank the cooks—a simple act that nonetheless went greatly appreciated by the dragons in the kitchen and that seemed to impress Kaver as well—they followed the wind dragon councillor out into the corridors once more. Deciding to begin their tour with a sweep around the city's perimeter, Kaver set off down the smooth passage that Spyro and Cynder had come out of earlier. Soon enough they were wandering down one of the many outlying hallways of the city at a leisurely pace, the frequent open windows on their right offering them constant views of the ever-breathtaking scenery.

"So, Kaver," Spyro spoke up after a short silence elapsed, the simple hallways offering little for their guide to tell them about. "Why was the city built in this location, anyway? I understand that it was built as a shelter, but why so high up?" He motioned out one of the windows as they passed, through which they could only barely see the ground far, far below them, an indistinct smudge behind the foreground of towering stone spires and plateaus covered in dense grass and underbrush.

"Why not?" came Kaver's simple reply, shrugging. "For one thing I believe that it adds a nice touch of character to the city that other dragon cities like Warfang, as magnificent as it is, are lacking in my opinion. For another, it is tremendously defendable and also easy to miss if you don't know it's here."

"But doesn't it make it harder to supply?" Cynder commented, looking up at the older dragon curiously. "How do you get food and water up here?"

"Water is a simple matter. The earth dragons who were among the original settlers here had the ingenious idea to carve an elaborate network of channels and small holding reservoirs into the upper portion of the butte, which while almost invisible from outside manage to capture almost all rainwater that falls on the rock and funnels it into the central reservoir located behind the core of the city. From there it's a simple matter of carrying it to where it's needed. Food takes a bit more work of course, but there is no shortage of wildlife living on the larger mesas scattered around the area that provide a sustainable food supply."

"So, things like the animals that live at Tall Plains?" Spyro asked, obviously recalling his brief journey there to rescue Cyril.

"Exactly," Kaver nodded, before adding as an afterthought, "Not including the Atlawa, of course."

The two young dragons both gave small chuckles, then fell into a thoughtful silence as each considered this information for a moment. During the pause in the conversation Kaver led them down a new corridor to their left when they came up to a T-shaped intersection in the passages, heading now toward the core of the spire. As they were walking they passed a pair of guards who appeared to be off duty for the moment, talking amicably with each other but still wearing their armour as if they had just ended their shift. One was an earth dragon, the other wind, and Cynder watched them pass with a thoughtful frown on her face before looking up at Kaver again and catching his eye.

"So, what kinds of dragons live here?" she asked him. "So far I've only seen wind and earth dragons."

"You have a keen eye," Kaver chuckled. "Yes, at the moment wind and earth almost exclusively comprise the population of the city. When it was originally formed it was by a band of wind and earth dragons fleeing from the war. Since that time there have been a couple of families or individuals of other elements that have come to call Sky Haven their home, but they are only a minute portion of the population."

"Is that another part of why the city was built where it was?" Spyro asked.

"It was certainly a convenient factor," Kaver nodded. "The first dragons here quickly realized the advantages of combining their powers for the construction and protection of the city. With their control over the stone around us, the earth dragons could easily handle the city's construction and provided a means of sealing it off if it ever came under threat, while the fact that the only way to reach Sky Haven is by air meant that the wind dragons' control of the sky gave the city an ideal means of defence."

"Like the Gale Stream," Cynder ventured, her tone hardening just a touch as her mind flashed back to the incident the day before.

Kaver gave a small, almost sheepish chuckle under his breath. "I figured that would come up. Yes, the Gale Stream is one of our primary defensive measures."

"How does it work?" Spyro asked, looking up at the larger dragon with curiosity written over his features. "And why did it attack us when we were trying to pass through?"

"In regards to your first question, it is a tremendous feat of elemental magic. Tell me, my young purple friend; have your teachings in the elements advanced beyond their direct manipulation yet?"

Spyro shook his head.

"Well, back in ancient times dragons were able to do far more with their elements than simply breathe them. Elaborate spells and enchantments abounded, dragons of a single element or groups working together able to imbue almost any object with their powers to achieve incredible results."

"Really?" Spyro asked, and Cynder could see the gleam of excitement and intrigue in his eyes.

Kaver nodded. "It is far less common nowadays, especially due to the decline in our race's numbers, but those with the proper knowledge can still achieve such feats. That is how the Gale Stream was created. The original wind dragons who lived here combined all their powers together, focussing them into a crystalline totem of sorts created by the earth dragons, which they called the Gale Heart, and wove a spell that would conjure a tremendously powerful yet focussed stream of wind that would ensnare intruders and propel them to their deaths against the rocks. Since it is the key to our first line of defence the Gale Heart is one of the most closely guarded relics in the city, protected constantly in the city hall."

"But why did it attack us?" Cynder asked.

Kaver paused briefly, a strange, hesitant look coming over his features, but finally he said, "That, I do not know. And neither do any of the other council members or guards that I've discussed it with. The Gale Stream's spell is only supposed to activate when it senses an evil presence. Evil, as I'm sure you both are aware, has a very distinctive trace. I cannot fathom, then, why you two would have been targeted by it."

There was an awkward pause following those words, and in the silence Cynder felt the first twinges of guilt inside of her. She glanced over at Spyro with a hint of shame in her expression, and he quickly looked toward her as well when he noticed. She saw only concern and support in his eyes and not a trace of accusation, but despite this Cynder felt convinced that the Gale Stream had been reacting to the Dark Master's corruption that had left its mark on her, and so it was because of her that they had both almost been killed. Kaver quickly noticed the distress she was in, however.

"Now, don't be so quick to blame yourself," he said reassuringly. "While I would be lying if I said that when the Gale Stream was first made you weren't one of the main threats in mind, I am not so sure that you triggered the spell this time. Given how long you have been free from the Dark Master's power, whatever traces of it remain would surely be too small to consider. No, I would more likely wager that something has gone wrong with the spell. It will have to be looked into. In the meantime, don't worry yourself about it. The Gale Stream knows not to target you anymore, and so there is no danger."

Cynder forced herself to give a shallow nod of her head, but inside her doubts still festered. Clearly Spyro noticed, for a second later Cynder felt him brush her flank gently with a folded wing, and when she looked up at him he offered her a comforting smile. Cynder couldn't help but smile faintly back at him, grateful for his ever-present support, and briefly she leaned her head over and nuzzled him softly under the edge of his jaw. The contact, however fleeting in length, helped to sooth her trouble, and when she pulled back her smile came more easily. The purple dragon gave a quiet chuckle. Then, after another short pause, he looked up at their guide again.

"Alright, now I have another question," he spoke up.

"Then by all means, fire away," Kaver replied without hesitation.

"Have you been a member of the council here for long?"

The wind dragon looked surprised by this query, and he turned a quizzical gaze down on Spyro. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem a lot more laid back than all the other city officials we've met before," Spyro told him.

"And most of the wind dragons we've met in general," Cynder added, an image flashing in her mind of the chief elder from the northern refugee city that she had visited during the grublin threat months before, during Nexus's campaign of destabilization. A small scowl crossed her features. Kaver, however, chuckled.

"Well, I've been on the council for just short of a year now," he answered. "As such my influence within it is still somewhat limited due to seniority and all that, and I guess it's also why I've managed to keep that 'official' stinginess from rubbing off on me so far. I have to say that I'm a little concerned to hear that your impression of wind dragons so far is so seemingly lacking, though. We're usually a pretty easy group to get along with, I like to think. Anyone in particular that's giving you this less than flattering image?"

"Well, there are the elders you had to deal with," Spyro began, motioning with his head toward Cynder.

Cynder scoffed quietly. "Yeah. And Captain Boreas, obviously."

Kaver suddenly let out a drawn out grunt of understanding, causing both Spyro and Cynder to look up at him curiously.

"Ah, Boreas," he said, nodding slowly. "I think I understand now. Yes, he is a little bit..."

"Jerkish?" Cynder offered.

Kaver chuckled. "I was going to say serious, but I guess that's apt too. He just takes his work as a guard very seriously. He doesn't try to be abrasive."

"You sound like you knew him personally," Spyro commented. "He was from this city before he came to Warfang, wasn't he?"

"Yes he was," Kaver nodded. "Before he volunteered to serve as the liaison officer between our cities in Warfang's Guard when we established contact."

"I didn't know he was a liaison," Cynder spoke up. "Was that an issue when he chose to become a candidate for captain?"

"Not really. His liaison term was only temporary, and in his final report back to us he expressed his desire to remain a guard in Warfang permanently. The council accepted his resignation, his mate and son moved to Warfang with him, and the next we heard of him he had become captain of the Second Dragon Division of the Warfang Guard. Good for him, I say. It certainly has been quieter here since his family moved out of the city, though. That son of his..."

The wind dragon chuckled quietly to himself again, and Spyro and Cynder exchanged a quick glance.

Their conversation was brought to an end when they rounded the next corner in the corridors, and ahead of them they could see a large, carved archway signalling that they were approaching the end of the tunnel-like passages. The arch itself was quite a thing to behold. It was carved in the shape of two dragons, standing on square pedestals facing away from the centre of the giant spire as though guarding the interior of the city. They each had one wing extended, the tips crossing overhead to form the shape of the archway. Each statue was almost twice the size of an adult dragon, and as Kaver and the two younger dragons passed through the arch Cynder couldn't help but stare up at them with a feeling of mild awe. She was only snapped out of her reverie when Kaver stopped just a few paces past the archway.

"And now, young dragons," he said proudly, holding out a wing, "allow me to finally present Sky Haven to you officially."

Cynder turned her head away from the huge dragon statues to see what lay ahead of them, and as soon as she had her eyes widened and her jaw slackened slightly. An expansive cavern carved out of the solid stone was spread out in front of them, so large that they hardly felt enclosed within it at all. It wasn't the size of the cavern that impressed her, however, but rather the city that had been built within it.

Buildings carved out of the stone were arrayed neatly in a sort of spoke-and-wheel formation around a polished central courtyard in which Cynder could see several dragons wandering about. Mostly they were earth and wind dragons, but she did see a couple of infrequent flashes of colour from other elements. On one side of the courtyard, in front of a tall, wide square building that Cynder assumed was the town hall, was a peacefully flowing fountain. There were even trees and other assorted shrubbery growing from small garden enclosures lining many of the paving-stone streets to add a touch of colour to the various shades of grey that made up the rest of the small city. In the open space that stretched between the city boundary and the cavern wall was, as impossible as it may have seen, a lush field of thick green grass and the occasional tree along the outside, the grass waving in a soft breeze. Where this breeze came from, though, Cynder had no idea.

"Wow," was all she could utter as she stared out at the scene, dumbstruck by the sight of it. It looked far more developed than she had been expecting for a hidden city dug out of a lonely butte, but more than that it didn't bear the feeling of being trapped underground at all. This was no refugee shelter. This place was flourishing!

"Where's the light coming from?" Spyro asked, casting his gaze about. There wasn't a torch in sight, and yet the city was lit up as though under the direct light of the sun.

Kaver smiled. "From there," he replied, pointing with a wing up to the ceiling of the cavern. Cynder followed with her gaze, and she gasped when she saw what he was indicating. The majority of the cave's roof was made not of stone, but rather of some sort of giant formation of clear, colourless crystal. Though she didn't understand how, sunlight was streaming through it in abundance, thick rays of light pouring out of the crystal's faceted surface and onto the city and field below. Kaver led them farther into the cavern, and as they became able to look up at the crystal from a more direct angle Cynder was astounded to see blue sky through it, the image broken and distorted by the uneven surface but still clear and bright. Though odd, the effect was breathtaking and Cynder could feel a smile of wonder growing on her muzzle.

"That's incredible," Spyro breathed beside her.

"That's the work of the earth dragons," Kaver stated, still smiling smugly. "This crystal doesn't actually look straight through into the sky, but rather branches out into dozens of veins that lead out all over the peak of the spire, collecting the sunlight and channelling it here. We may be enclosed deep within the rock, but thanks to this crystal we can still look up and feel like we're in the outside air."

"It's amazing," Cynder said in admiration.

"It is indeed. And that's only the beginning of what I have to show you two. Come with me. I'll show you the council hall, where tomorrow we'll be holding the vote for Sky Haven's official union with Warfang as an allied state of the Dragon Realms. I think you'll both be impressed."

He set off in the direction of the central courtyard, and in a mild daze Spyro and Cynder followed him, barely able to tear their gazes away from the 'sky' above them. When they had finally succeeded, Cynder turned toward Spyro and the purple dragon did likewise. As soon as his eyes met hers Cynder gave a broad, sparkling grin across her features, and with a surge of excitement flowing through her she took off running after Kaver who was pulling away from them at a brisk pace. With a laugh Spyro tore after her, and together they sprang down the street after their guide, both of them filled with excitement to see what other wonders awaited them.

Whatever else the city had to show them that day, Cynder couldn't wait to see it.

***.*.***

As had become the norm for Warfang over the past weeks, the dragon city was bustling with festive activity. The streets were full, the gardens and courtyards were flooded with performers and spectators, and in the sky overhead the winged forms of dragons, griffins, and other races gifted with flight crisscrossed as they tried to skip the crowds on their way from one point of the festival to another. The city was the embodied image of excitement and celebration.

To one lone dragon lying on the stone balcony outside of his room, however, the noise and bustle was nothing but a distant buzz in the background. While his position in the centre of the city meant that the clamouring noise was almost overpowering at times, Flash had all but tuned it out as he rested leisurely out in the open air, letting the sun soak into his creamy white scales and iridescent wings. He lazily flipped a page of the book he was reading with a single talon, content to ignore the world around him for the time being. While the friends that he had made since coming to Warfang had helped him to grow more comfortable in the company of others and less reserved, the peacefulness of solitude was something that he still craved often. Some might worry that time spent alone was time not spent enjoying the festivities in the city, but Flash didn't mind. The festival wasn't going anywhere for some time yet.

His moment of privacy was regretfully interrupted when a knock sounded at his door. Flash looked up from his book, mildly puzzled by the disturbance, but then after a brief hesitation he pushed himself to his paws and entered his room through the open balcony entrance. The room within was spacious but relatively plain. Aside from the pile of thick cushions in one corner and the white banner than hung off the opposite wall with swirling, coloured accents, Flash had very little in the way of possessions to fill the room with. Mostly it was just a collection of assorted books that he had built up over the months that he had called Warfang his home, most of them read already.

When he reached the door he paused again, wondering who it could be that would be calling for him. Then, shrugging, he reached up with a forepaw and pulled the wooden door open, poking his head out into the hallway beyond.

"Faren," he said when he saw the lithe red dragoness standing in the corridor, mildly surprised. "Hey."

"Hey," she answered, flashing a very brief, uncertain smile. "Um, are you busy?"

"Not really," the light dragon answered with a shrug. "Just getting a little alone time in. Why? What's up?"

"Oh, nothing really," Faren answered in her usual, slightly hesitant tone, as if she was afraid she was intruding even despite their friendship. "Chinook and Enigma just asked me if I wanted to go out into the city for a while before Advanced Combat class later, and they wondered if you wanted to come too. But if you're happy here..."

Flash considered the offer for a moment, but soon afterward he looked back up and gave a quick shake of his head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't think so," he told the fire dragoness. "Volteer wants me to go see him before class anyway, so I'll just see you guys at the lesson."

"Oh, uh, alright," Faren stammered in reply. "See you later then."

"Have fun," Flash told her.

Faren gave another quick smile and nodded. Then she turned about and hurried off down the corridor to meet up with Enigma and Chinook, who Flash guessed were waiting outside of the residence. Once the dragoness had gone Flash closed the door and headed back out to the balcony. Then he paused in contemplation, looking down at the book that still sat open where he had left it, considering his options.

At this point he only had a little over an hour before the Advanced Combat class in the Temple's training room would be beginning. Despite the fact that the city was in the middle of a festival and the majority of classes for the young dragons of the city were canceled until the celebrations ended, the Guardians had decided to keep the occasional advanced class running to keep their students in proper form. The schedule was far less rigorous than it was normally, but the Guardians didn't want their conditioning wavering either. Flash didn't mind, though he knew that Chinook and a few of the other students did. Still, nobody complained—at least not in front of the Guardians.

With a small, resigned sigh, Flash closed the book and picked it up with a paw. Setting it under one of his wings, he turned back toward his room and headed for the bookshelf where he replaced the book in its proper spot. That completed, the young white dragon left his room and set off for the Temple, deciding that he might as well see what Volteer wanted now instead of waiting. Given how much the electric Guardian liked to ramble, Flash decided it might be best if he allowed himself a bit of a time buffer before he was due in class with the others.

The trip to the Temple was quick, even with the streets so full of bodies hurrying this way and that. Living for his whole life in a cramped underground village made navigating the crowds here no trouble for Flash. Only a couple of minutes later he was climbing the steps of the Temple, passing into it without hesitating. Finding Volteer's chamber took a bit longer, for it took Flash a moment to remember where it was, but soon enough he had successfully navigated the twisting corridors and was standing outside of the Guardian's doorway on the Temple's top level. He could hear voices coming from inside, one of them Volteer's, but they fell silent when the light dragon knocked on the wooden door with a paw.

"You may enter at your leisure," Volteer answered a moment later, his voice muffled by the thick door. Flash obeyed, pushing the door open with a paw and stepping inside the room.

The chamber was simply decorated for one belonging to such a high-ranking figure of Warfang's society. Roughly circular except for the wall facing the corridor, the room didn't convey much of a feeling of status or power. In fact it was quite modest. Plain wooden shelves ran around a good portion of the walls, except for the low desk that sat underneath one of the room's two small windows. Volteer's cluster of faded yellow and blue cushions was situated under the other, a mid-sized banner depicting the ancient emblem for electricity hanging from the wall nearby. Scraps of parchment and books littered almost every surface in the chamber, especially the desk behind which Volteer was presently seated. Across from him, facing the Guardian but looking back over his shoulder at the doorway, was a maroon-scaled fire dragon with whom Flash was unfamiliar.

"Ah, young Coronus," Volteer spoke up in a pleased tone at the sight of the white dragon standing in the doorway. "What fine, brilliant, appropriate and fortuitous timing. Please, come in."

"Am I interrupting something?" Flash inquired as he closed the door behind him somewhat uncertainly, glancing between the Guardian and the other dragon.

"Oh, no, quite to the contrary," Volteer answered rapidly. "No, as I said, the time of your appearance is most fitting. My colleague and I were in fact at this very point in time discussing the fascinating and intriguing subject in regards to which I had originally summoned you here."

Flash blinked as he sorted out this blisteringly-paced response in his mind. Once this was done, he simply said, "Oh."

"Indeed," Volteer nodded before turning his gaze on the third dragon in the room. "Coronus, I would like to introduce you to a compatriot of mine with whom I have shared a strong acquaintanceship and a great many collaborations of a diverse academic nature for several decades now."

"My name is Helios," the red dragon told him in a deep but energetic tone, bobbing his head in greeting with a smile that Flash thought looked similar to the one that Volteer quite often bore. "I have to say that it's a pleasure to meet you. I have heard much about you and your elemental prowess from Volteer here."

Again Flash blinked, surprised by this news. "You have?" He looked questioningly up at Volteer.

"Yes, Helios and I have shared an abundance of discussions and dialogues concerning your fascinatingly unique talents," the Guardian answered without delay. "In fact, he has recently been providing me with assistance in a research endeavour with the goal of isolating and distinguishing potential precedent occurrences of said abilities."

"You mean...you've been trying to find records of other light dragons?"

The young white dragon wasn't sure if he had understood the Electricity Guardian correctly—a constant possibility with Volteer. While over the years he had wondered many times about where he had come from and how he had hatched with a power that no one he had encountered in his life had ever heard of before, he had never considered it a topic that the Guardians themselves would take interest in. Why would Volteer be concerned with learning about the background of one single student of his? Nevertheless, his doubts were quickly dispelled.

"Indeed we have," the yellow-scaled elder nodded enthusiastically. "And I must say, the endeavour has proven to be the most puzzling and intriguing of mysteries."

"Quite the puzzle indeed," Helios nodded in agreement, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Warfang's records and accounts are enormously extensive, dating back nearly two thousand years to the best estimates, with some more cryptic works stretching back far beyond that even. Thousands upon thousands of dragons have had their names and powers captured within the wealth of historical knowledge we hold within this city. I would almost say that the city's library could rival that of the Chronicler."

He chuckled at that, and Volteer cast him a small grin as well, but Flash remained silent as he gazed up at the elder dragons, his brow furrowed in doubt and puzzlement.

"And yet despite this," Volteer continued without pausing, "we have been unsuccessful in our labours to unearth even a single confirmed, solid, unquestionable passage or account pertaining to a dragon of your particular subspecies."

"None at all?" Flash asked in surprise. "But...why wouldn't there be any?"

"We don't know," Helios answered with a shrug. "That is part of the mystery and intrigue in this enterprise of ours."

"But how can that be possible?" Flash pressed, his confusion only mounting. "I mean, I never knew who my parents were, but wouldn't at least one of them _have_ to be a light dragon?"

"Most likely," the older fire dragon nodded, exchanging looks with Volteer who also nodded. "It is not impossible for a dragon to inherit an element from farther up in their ancestry than their parents, but the vast majority of the time it is passed directly from parent to child, yes. Either way we can be confident that _someone_ in your family tree had light for an element before you, but as of yet we have not been able to find any mention of them."

Flash became silent, his gaze falling to the floor with a frown on his expression. Though it surprised him, this puzzling development had had more of an effect on him than he would have anticipated. The thing was that he didn't even know why, though. He had grown accustomed to being alone over the course of his life, his brother Claymore being the only dragon he could ever think of as being close to him before Spyro came along. Hearing now that Volteer and his maroon-scaled companion had been searching for more dragons like him had kindled a faint spark of hope and anticipation within him, then, only to have it unceremoniously smothered again.

"So...if you couldn't find any other light dragons, why are you telling me this?" he asked at length, slowly raising his eyes.

"Because we had hoped to enlist your assistance in this matter," Volteer replied promptly. "While the presently available compendium of knowledge on the individual histories of the members of our race covers only an infinitesimal portion of dragon kind's period of existence, it is still an enormous volume of information for only the two of us to sift through. With your input we may just have the capacity of refining the parameters of our research efforts and therefore be able to focus our investigative efforts on more relevant sources."

Flash's response was a blank stare. Seeing this, Helios gave a small chuckle before speaking up.

"What my lightning-tongued colleague means to say is that, while we understand that you may have very little knowledge to pass on to us about your background, perhaps if you could tell us what you _do_ know it would help us rule out regions of census data and records that we should ignore and focus more closely instead on sets of data that may prove more useful."

"Oh," Flash said slowly, considering this proposal. "Well, I guess I can try. If it'll help..."

"Excellent!" Helios exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm that caught Flash off guard. "Then would you like to accompany me to the library? As I understand it you still have some time before your presence is required elsewhere for your lessons, correct?"

"Just you?" the white dragon asked, cocking his head to the side and narrowing his eyes inquisitively.

"I unfortunately have prior engagements that I must see to," Volteer informed him. "So you will both have to fill me in as to the progress of your investigations when we rendezvous at the training arena. I will be anticipating the news of whatever discoveries you may or may not make in the meantime."

"We'll try not to disappoint," Helios smiled before rising to his paws and turning to Flash. "Well, shall we? Lead on, young one."

Flash remained rooted in place for a few seconds, still feeling a bit uncertain about everything that he had just heard, but eventually he nodded and turned back toward the door. He pulled it open and stepped through while Helios bid a quick farewell to Volteer, then the two mismatched dragons were on their way through the Temple's corridors. Soon enough they had reached the ornate building's main exit and had descended into the streets of the city, heading for Warfang's central library. Along the way, Flash occasionally glanced up at the large, older dragon beside him, studying him silently. Finally, he decided to break that silence.

"So...you've known Volteer for a while?"

"I have," Helios nodded quickly, smiling. "We were good friends in our youth during our studies, but when he went off to train to become a Guardian we lost touch for a time. When I eventually moved here to Warfang, though, we were reunited, and since then we've been working together on all manner of fascinating projects in whatever time he has to spare."

"Projects?" Flash asked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Research endeavours for the most part, especially dealing with many of the more mysterious aspects of elemental magic. You would be surprised how much there is about our own powers that we still do not understand, young one. You are a prime example of this, actually. The power to control light itself..."

He trailed off with a faint chuckle, excitement shining in his coppery-coloured eyes and a boyish grin stretching across his muzzle. Flash glanced up at him oddly, his impressions of this dragon rapidly turning in the same direction as those he held of Volteer; a bit on the strange side. They certainly seemed to be a well matched pair, at least.

"I really was beside myself when Volteer asked if I wanted to help him with this newest enquiry he was looking into, because with it came the opportunity to observe not only you but the other young dragons in your class as well in action during your lessons."

"You're going to be watching our classes?"

Helios nodded eagerly. "Yes. Now not only will I be able to see how you use your powers to hopefully uncover some clues to use in our following research into your element and dragons that may have shared it, but I might even be fortunate enough to hopefully see young Spyro or Cynder use convexity as well. You see, convexity is a bit of a fascination of mine. Like I said; studying the more mysterious areas of elemental magic, and what's more mysterious than that?"

Flash's only response was a slow grunt of, "Hmm," his eyes narrowing slightly as he gazed up at the elder dragon at this turn in the conversation. The mention of convexity was something that always set his scales on edge after having seen what Spyro and Cynder were capable of doing with it in their classes. He had nothing against either of them for using it, but still he was wary of it more than any other power. Perhaps it was the fact that it was so dark in its essence and therefore was naturally at odds with his own abilities, much like Enigma with her shadow powers...

He shook his head to clear it when he realized Helios was speaking to him again.

"That's enough rambling from me, though," he said, smiling down at Flash. "Why don't we make use of this time by hearing about your story?"

"I guess," Flash sighed, feeling mildly uncomfortable about the personal direction this conversation was taking, but his curiosity about the origin of his power drove him onward. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, why don't we start as far back as we can? Volteer tells me that your egg was rescued by dragons fleeing toward the mountain village where you grew up. Is that correct?"

Flash merely nodded.

"What else can you tell me about that?"

Flash sighed again, but at length he relented and began recounting what he knew about his egg's discovery in the wilderness. There wasn't much that he could tell, unfortunately. He had only ever known what Claymore had been able to tell him, since he had been too young when their grandmother had died to remember much of anything that she had said. As it was, he told Helios about how his egg had been found in the mountainous woods along the coast, far to the north. It had been completely alone, with no signs of dragon activity anywhere nearby. Nobody knew why it had been just sitting there in such a remote, unwelcoming area, or how it had ended up there in the first place. The best theories that anyone could come up with were that either a dragon family had been fleeing through the area, carrying the egg with them, and they had fallen under attack and dropped before being either being killed, captured, or forced to leave it behind, or else that it had been misplaced by apes that had looted it from some other source, for that region wasn't too far from the ape stronghold of Concurrent Skies.

While Flash felt that this scant information was of very little usefulness, though, Helios clearly felt differently. As soon as he had learned this he ushered the young white dragon along to the library at a redoubled pace, and once there he had practically dragged his half-willing assistant through the endless aisles of ancient tomes, gathering countless texts and accounts pertaining to dragon settlements along that stretch of coastline and beyond it that had existed any time in the past several hundred years.

Only once the table that they had chosen to work at was practically buried under a mountain of books did Helios finally settle down to begin reading, and with a tired sigh Flash flopped down on an open cushion to rest his tired legs. Helios assured the younger dragon that he could handle looking through the books they had collected, and so Flash was free to simply let his body relax. Within only minutes of doing so, lying there in the nearly silent library, the light dragon felt himself dozing off. At first he fought it, but eventually he just surrendered and allowed reality to gradually slip away, replaced by fragmented images of him standing in a bright, white-stoned plaza surrounded by other light dragons just like him...

***.*.***

"Alright, let's try this one more time before we break. Just remember to keep the energy focussed in as tight of an area as you can before you release it to get more power in your flame. Are you ready?"

After taking a deep, slightly shaky breath to collect herself, Faren looked up and nodded her head without a word. Several paces away Sirius nodded his head in return before closing his eyes and concentrating. Knowing what was coming, Faren settled into a low ready stance and braced herself, trying to control the racing of her heart in her chest.

_Okay, you can do this_, she told herself quickly as she took another deep breath. _Just focus the flames. Don't think about everyone else in the room. Don't wonder if they're watching you or not. It's just you and Sirius, just like when you were younger. Just you. You can do it. Focus the flames. Focus the—_

She almost yelped in surprise when the patchwork training dummy suddenly materialized ten feet ahead of her in a flash of smoke and light. Fighting past the feeling of her heart being lodged in her throat and taking aim as quickly as possible, the slight red dragoness sucked in as large a breath as she could manage before trying to cram the blossoming heat in her chest into as tight of a point as she could manage. A split second later she exhaled it all in one fell gust, watching as a screen of brilliant red flames erupted from between her jaws and engulfed the dummy in an instant.

She felt her heart fall in disappointment and even shame when the fire cleared and she saw that the dummy was still standing. The patchy material that made up its inanimate body had been roasted to a blackened crisp, large sections crumbling away into ash, but she hadn't succeeded in destroying it. Her flames just hadn't been strong enough.

There was no time to fret about her failure, however, because only an instant later there was another flash and a second dummy appeared, this time behind her and to her left. Muscling past her flagging confidence, Faren inhaled again and rounded on the dummy, pouring everything she had into the blast of flames that leapt from her maw as soon as it was centred in her sights. Despite her efforts, though, her spirits dropped again when she saw that once more she had been unsuccessful in eliminating her target. Though almost half burned away this time, the dummy didn't disappear.

_Why can't I get this?_ she cried within her mind. _Sirius always makes it look so easy!_

Another dummy appeared, and with a groan Faren prepared herself to attack again.

The next several moments passed in a blaze of flame and smoke. Faren scrambled to keep up with the pace of the test, all the while aware of her brother observing her from beyond the training ring. It was only his fourth day working with the Advanced Combat class in the temple, having stepped into the role of instructor alongside Terrador, Cyril and Volteer when he had been appointed Guardian, but he had settled into his new role surprisingly easily. As was only to be expected, he spent most of his time focussing his teaching efforts with the small handful of fire dragon students in the class—only three, in fact. So far, he had proven to be a very effective teacher. He tried to spend time with each of them individually for a short period in each of their classes, helping them to advance in areas where they usually struggled.

In Faren's case this area was the strength of her element, for she was still well behind her fire dragon classmates when it came to raw power despite her impressive accuracy and technical grasp. The exercise that she was attempting now was one Sirius had devised in an effort to help her along. In a testament to just how well he knew his sister, he had granted these training dummies with enough elemental resilience so that the power it would take to destroy them was barely a hair more than Faren could usually achieve. This, in combination with the very narrow window that she had in which to hit them before they vanished again, meant that she was forced to push the limit of her power with everything she had in her effort to pass her brother's test.

A minute later, the test reached its end. Faren stood in the centre of the training circle, lightly panting as she glanced around at the results of her work. Seven badly singed dummies stood in an uneven ring around her out of the twelve that had appeared during the course of the test. Realizing just how many she had failed to destroy with her fire, Faren felt her shoulders droop with heavy disappointment.

"Better," Sirius said, his expression neutral as he studied the remaining dummies before dismissing them. "You're still a little bit inconsistent, but there's progress. Next time just try and pay more attention to keeping the power in the heart of your flames steadier and that should help."

Faren released a quiet sigh, watching with a subdued expression as the charred training dummies dissolved into clouds of pale smoke that rapidly dissipated in the air. She was trying her absolute hardest to do as her brother told her and focus more heat into her fire, but at times she felt like she wasn't advancing as quickly as her older sibling was hoping.

"Okay, Sirius," she said as she padded out of the ring and over to his side. "Sorry."

The new Guardian's expression softened slightly, a brotherly smile appearing at the corner of his mouth for a moment.

"Cheer up, sis," he told her, nudging her with the tip of a folded wing and causing her to look up. "I know you'll get it. You just need to keep practicing. I'm sure Flash or Cynder would be happy to help you work on it during some spare time if you asked. Try them sometime."

Faren was silent for a short while as she considered this suggestion, hesitant to bother her friends with such a request but knowing that her brother was probably right. Eventually she gave a tentative nod and said, "Yeah, okay. I'll think about it."

"Good. Now go on and rest up. There are a few minutes left before Terrador should be starting up the next round of exercises."

Faren nodded again and turned toward the edge of the training room as Sirius padded off toward another one of the fire dragon students. Then, keeping a wary eye on her surroundings to make sure she didn't wander into harm's way, she began moving away from the training floor to catch her breath. Soon she had found an unoccupied space by the wall and sat back on her haunches, her green eyes scanning across the room and the other dozen students practicing within it. While nowhere near as large as the arena in the Tournament Dome, the Temple's training room was still quite spacious with enough room for four small individual training rings in addition to the main one that encompassed most of the chamber, allowing multiple groups of students to work on different exercises at the same time.

Just at that moment Faren noticed movement in one of the two doors leading into the chamber, and when she looked over toward it she saw Flash and a fire dragon that she didn't know step through it. Flash soon caught sight of her and wove his way through the room until he had reached her side, sitting down facing the rest of the room with her.

"You're late," she commented uncertainly, and Flash responded with a slightly flustered huff.

"Yeah, Volteer's friend Helios there kept us in the library a bit longer than he was supposed to."

He jerked his chin toward the other newcomer, who was now standing on the opposite side of the room and conversing excitedly with the aforementioned electric Guardian. Faren studied him for a moment with a feeling of mixed surprise and understanding.

"Oh, okay," she said finally. "So what did Volteer want to talk to you about?"

"They're looking for more light dragons."

Faren was shocked by this news, not to mention the bluntness with which it had been delivered, and she turned a wide-eyed look toward her friend.

"They are?"

Flash nodded. "Yep. That's why Volteer wanted to see me. He wanted to ask for my help."

"Well...did you find anything?" Faren asked slowly, still processing this news and wondering why Flash seemed so indifferent about it.

_Or maybe he's more excited than he's letting on,_ she thought. _This has to be a shock for him too, doesn't it?_

Flash shook his head in response to her question, and Faren sagged slightly in disappointment—while she was still struggling to come to terms with this unexpected development, she had been growing cautiously excited for her friend as well.

"No, nothing yet. Helios seems to think he found some possible leads though. We'll see. So, did I miss anything important in the class so far?"

"Oh," Faren stammered briefly, caught off guard by the rapid shift in the conversation topic. "Well, no, not really. We've just been practicing on our own mostly up to now. But Sirius said that the next exercises will be starting pretty soon, so I'm just waiting fo—"

"Hey!"

Faren squeaked with fright and bolted several feet away from the new voice that had come from right beside her, ending up half hidden behind Flash and peering back toward the intruder with her heart hammering in her chest. When she saw who it was who had spoken, though, she faltered in surprise.

"Sorry," Voltra said with a sheepish expression on her face, settling back on her haunches a few paces back from the pair and facing them. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Voltra," Flash said, a surprised look on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited to try out for the Advanced Combat class!" the yellow dragoness declared excitedly, a broad grin spreading across her muzzle. "Master Volteer came to my house yesterday and told us personally. It was a real surprise!"

"Really? You're joining the class?"

Voltra nodded rapidly, beaming. "Yeah! I was never expecting it, but Master Volteer said that the Guardians had heard about how well I was able to keep up with you guys in that thunderball game, and they wanted to see how I would do in the class. My parents couldn't believe it!"

She paused briefly at this and looked back toward the training room's main doorway, giving another bright smile and waving with a forepaw. Faren followed her gaze in confusion and saw that she was waving to a male electricity dragon that was there speaking with Cyril. Faren noticed that the male's colouring and the shape of his horns was strikingly similar to Voltra's. Then she saw that he was missing the upper half of his right horn and she realized that this must have been Voltra's father. The adult dragon smiled and waved back to his daughter, then returned to conversing quickly with the Ice Guardian, no doubt asking a few final questions in regards to the young dragoness's new class.

"I'm so excited," Voltra giggled, and Faren looked to see that the other dragoness was practically vibrating with giddy energy. "I can't wait to see what kinds of training you guys do here. Is it really hard?"

Faren opened her mouth to reply but no words came out, Voltra's sudden appearance leaving her still recovering from the start. Fortunately for her, Flash stepped in.

"It can be sometimes," he said with a shrug. "Just listen to what the Guardians tell you and if your skill level is high enough then you should be fine."

Voltra gave him a questioning look, tilting her head to the side.

"If my skill level is high enough? I thought that was what being in the class was for; to get your skill level up."

Faren thought she detected a slight edge in Voltra's voice, which was understandable considering that what Flash had said _could_ easily come off as arrogant, but she knew that it was just his blunt manner showing through. She only hoped that Voltra wouldn't take it too personally until she knew him better.

"Yeah, it is," Flash nodded, unconcerned, "but if your ability isn't high enough to start with then you won't be able to keep up. I'm just saying, it's an intense class."

"Hmm," Voltra said slowly, relaxing gradually. "Yeah, I guess that does make sense."

Flash nodded again. "You have to remember that it was made around Spyro and Cynder at the start, after all."

"Speaking of which," Voltra piped up with sudden eagerness. "Are they here? I haven't seen them yet, and I was really hoping I would get to see them in action when I got here."

There was a note of admiration and longing in her tone as she spoke, as though the prospect of seeing the two legendary young dragons in actual combat was something that she could have only dreamed of before, which wasn't really a surprise. After all, Faren could easily remember her own shock and awe when she had first encountered the pair, even if it had been hidden behind her fear.

"Sorry," Flash told her, breaking both dragonesses out of their wandering thoughts. "They left the city a few days ago. The Guardians said it was some kind of job for them. They won't be back for a little while."

"Aww," Voltra groaned, her wings drooping slightly. Then she let out a small sigh. "Well, I guess I can wait until they get back. Actually, it might be better that they're not here. This way I don't have to worry about embarrassing myself on the first day in front of the two most famous dragons in the city."

She gave a light chuckle at this thought, and beside Faren Flash smirked briefly.

"So, what happens now anyway?" Voltra asked a moment later, looking around. "How come you guys are just sitting here?"

"We're waiting for the group lessons to start," Faren forced out past her lingering nervousness.

"Group lessons?" Voltra repeated, cocking her head to the side.

"Yeah," Flash nodded. "Teamwork training, basically. The Guardians usually split us up into groups from two to four, then pit us against basically any kind of situation you can imagine."

"Anything?" Voltra asked in surprise.

"Oh yeah," a new voice cut in without warning, causing Faren to jolt again. A second later she gradually relaxed when she saw Chinook and Enigma approach from behind her and Flash, joining the group. "Flash, tell her about the time Cyril set the four of us up against that pack of death hounds."

"A pack of _what_?" the yellow dragoness blurted, looking alarmed.

"I was actually going to tell her about the time you and Enigma got matched up against one of those huge, ugly-looking ogre things," Flash said, glancing at Chinook.

"You're joking," Voltra gasped.

"It actually went down pretty easily," Enigma commented with a shrug. "At least after Chinook blinded it with that dust he blew into its eyes."

Chinook gave a large, proud grin at the memory. Voltra, meanwhile, was glancing back and forth between the four other dragons with a look of awe on her features. However, there was also growing apprehension in her eyes.

"Sheesh," she whistled. "I sure hope they don't throw anything like that against me today."

"Oh no, you don't have to worry about that," Chinook said with a dismissive wave of his paw. "The only thing newbies have to do on the first day is the Gauntlet."

Voltra faltered. "The what?"

"The Gauntlet," the wind dragon repeated casually. "It's what we call the test that new students go through so that the Guardians can judge their skill level."

"Oh," Voltra said in a hesitant voice, clearly made uneasy by the less-than-friendly name this test bore. "So, uh, what do I have to do?"

"Fight waves of progressively harder enemies until you drop," Enigma answered flatly.

Voltra gave a quick laugh, as if she thought the shadow dragoness was joking, but when she noticed the way that the others were all looking at her she faltered again.

"Seriously?" she asked incredulously.

"Yep," Flash said.

Voltra was silent for several seconds, looking more than just a little worried about what she was hearing, but then she gave another nervous laugh.

"Well, okay then. I guess if that's the way things work here I'll give it a shot. So when will I have to do this thing?"

Chinook glanced around the chamber quickly before saying, "My guess would be right about—"

"Attention, everyone!" came the booming sound of Terrador's voice without warning.

"Now."

All activity within the training room quickly ceased, the eyes of every young dragon turning toward the bulky Earth Guardian without delay. Once he was certain that all of the students were listening, Terrador addressed them all in his usual commanding tone.

"Before we begin the group training phase of this class, I would like to announce that we are lucky enough to be welcoming a pair of new classmates into the Advanced Combat course today. Only one has arrived so far, but I expect that the other will be along in due time. For the moment, the other Guardians and I would like you all to offer a warm welcome to your new fellow trainee."

The gazes of the students all shifted to Voltra, and after only a brief anxious pause she lifted a forepaw and waved, putting on a bright smile that even her nerves couldn't dampen. A few of the nearer dragons called out quick hellos to her, others nodding their heads in greeting, but many remained silent as they simply studied her, sizing her up and trying to gauge how much competition she would present. Faren knew that while the students of the Advanced Combat class weren't hostile, they were all driven to try and rise to the top of the class—even if the class's obvious leaders, Spyro and Cynder, would be very, very hard to dethrone from that position. A new classmate was one more dragon they would have to best to get there, then.

"And now I'm sure you all know what comes next," Terrador continued, catching everyone's attention again. "Voltra, if you would, please step to the centre of the ring so that we might begin your evaluation trial."

Voltra hesitated for a second, a look of anxiety crossing her angled features, but finally she forced herself to walk out into the middle of the training circle. The other students all hurried to clear the area, backing away until they were seated against the walls of the room, watching intently. On the other side of the chamber the Guardians, along with the fire dragon Helios, all sat together with their gazes fixed upon the new student.

"This test has no time limit and no restrictions," Terrador began once the young dragoness was in position. "You can use any attacks and techniques that you wish to defeat your opponents, both physical and elemental, however we would encourage you to use a mix of both to allow us to judge your abilities as thoroughly as possible. The test will end either when you become overwhelmed by your enemies, in which case we will immediately stop the battle ourselves, or when you feel that you are unable to continue fighting. Resorting to a fury qualifies as such a case. Do you have any questions?"

"I'm not going to get hurt in this thing, right?" Voltra asked with a nervous chuckle.

"We will be monitoring the test closely to ensure that doesn't happen," Cyril assured her. "And in the unlikely event that you are hurt in some fashion we maintain a supply of health gems here for such situations."

"You may rest assured that your safety and security will in no way be jeopardized during the course of this evaluation," Volteer added hurriedly.

"Okay," Voltra said, nodding her head slowly and taking a long, deep breath. Then she settled into a low stance. "I'm ready. Pretty sure, at least."

Terrador gave a faint smile at the corner of his muzzle. "Very well. Then good luck. Now, begin."

As soon as he spoke a trio of training dummies materialized in flashes of light and smoke, taking on the form of small ape soldiers armed only with their claws and teeth. A look of surprise and fear flashed quickly across Voltra's expression as the dummied charged toward her without delay from all sides, but then she quickly collected herself and leapt into the air before they could catch her between them. Immediately she cracked her jaws open and unleashed several brilliant chains of electricity that coursed across the apes' bodies, causing them to spasm uncontrollably and groan in pain. Then, while they were still paralyzed, Voltra dove down and raked her talons across the chests of two of them, finishing the third with a charging strike with her horns. All three dummies dissolved quickly into clouds of smoke, defeated.

"She's quick," Flash commented as he watched the battle closely.

"Yeah," Faren agreed quietly, watching in stunned silence at how rapidly the yellow dragoness was able to move.

Voltra hardly had a chance to steady herself after landing on the stone ground before the next wave of training dummies appeared. This time five dummies materialized around her, taking on the form of small grublin land soldiers armed with long-bladed staffs. They wasted no time before surging forward with horrible, grating shrieks with their staffs brandished high above their misshapen heads.

Voltra was just as quick to react as she was the first time. In much the same way she had done during the thunderball game, she overcharged her muscles with electricity and dashed toward two of the grublins on her right, reaching them in the time it took to blink and lashing out with her talons and fangs. An electric orb explosion sent a third flying through the air and caused it to smash against the hard stone wall, and two quick swipes of her tri-bladed tail dealt with the final two.

The next two rounds proceeded in much the same fashion, Voltra using her surprising agility and unexpectedly diverse repertoire of elemental attacks to fend off her multiple assailants. The training dummies never stood a chance against her, with only a couple of glancing blows having found their marks against her so far and with Voltra showing no signs of slowing down.

It was at that moment that the Guardians seemed to decide that the fun and games were over with. As the next round began only three dummies began to form, but these grew to be much larger than those coming before them. Eventually they settled into the shapes of medium-sized ape warriors, their powerful shoulders and arms holding up thick steel blades and shields, fierce scowls on their faces to complement their imposing statures. Voltra balked at the sight of these new foes, drawing back a step anxiously.

Unlike the previous waves that simply converged as a swarm, these apes advanced with measured, deliberate strides. Voltra spun about rapidly in the centre of the ring, anxiously trying to keep an eye on all three apes as they closed in around her, and a heavy silence had fallen over the students as they watched in anticipation for what would happen next.

Voltra was finally forced to act when the ape directly in front of her rushed forward suddenly, swinging its sword high into the air. With a startled yelp Voltra curled up into a tight ball and emitted a powerful surge of electricity from her body, yellow-white bolts lashing out from the resulting energy sphere and locking the three apes in place. Then, to the astonishment of much of her audience, she shot out a focussed chain of lighting from her mouth at the nearest ape that acted like a form of giant whip, wrapping around the ape's shield before she clamped her jaws around the other end and pulled with all her might. The ape was yanked off of its feet and thrown into one of the other dummies, getting it tangled in the long whip of energy as well. Voltra then sent a surge of power through the whip, gritting her fangs from the effort as she electrocuted her two foes. With final, strangled cries, the two ape dummies dissolved into smoke.

"That's a new one," Chinook spoke up in an awed tone, looking thoroughly surprised by this move from their new classmate.

There was no opportunity for anyone to reply, because just then before Voltra could even straighten she was nearly knocked off of her feet as the third and final ape struck her across the back of her head with its sword hand. The dragoness gave a pained grunt and staggered, but she regained her senses just in time to duck below the ape's next swing and between its legs, ending up behind it. Without delay she spun around and swung her tail upward. From the sidelines Faren caught a glimpse of electricity arcing between the three points of her tail blades before Voltra drove them into the ape's back with a shrill cry. The ape convulsed wildly for a second, then fell limply to the ground and vanishing as Voltra pulled her tail free again.

"Okay, this is starting to get tricky," she panted from the middle of the ring, flashing a strained grin toward the Guardians.

"It gets better," Terrador answered with a grin in return.

Voltra yelped as another wave of dummies appeared around her, and she quickly faltered when her eyes fell upon the mixed ranks of eight medium apes and armoured grublin soldiers wielding battle axes.

"Uh oh."

Faren could hardly look as the apes and grublins bore down on the already tiring dragoness, ready to tear her to pieces—even if the Guardians would never allow that to happen. Voltra battled with unflagging determination that clearly impressed the watching Guardians, and Faren and her friends as well, but it was clear that the lightning dragoness had reached the limits of her ability. She dashed around the ring at a frantic pace, dodging as many blows as possible and returning more, but the bruises and small nicks she had sustained by this point were wearing her down and Faren could feel anxiety growing within her as she realized that Voltra wasn't going to be able to win.

Just after Voltra managed to dispatch the last of the apes with a point-blank blast of electricity to the heart, she grunted sharply as a grublin on her left brought the long haft of its axe crashing across her left flank. She staggered and nearly managed to keep on her feet, but a follow-through jab with the butt end of the axe haft forced her to the ground. With a triumphant screech the grublin swung its axe around viciously, and with no chance of escape Voltra could only duck behind her wing with a fearful cry, waiting for the blow to land.

It never did. Slowly, hesitantly, Voltra peeked out from behind her wing and faltered when she saw that the training dummies had all disappeared. Immediately she let out a long sigh of relief, and on the sidelines Faren likewise released the breath she had been holding. Even though she knew the Guardians would never allow anything to happen to one of their students, that didn't make it any easier for her to watch other dragons fighting when it got that intense.

"Is it over?" Voltra asked uncertainly as she slowly rolled up to a standing position.

"It is," Terrador nodded.

"So how did I do?"

"You showed promise to be sure," Cyril responded, a thoughtful look on his expression. "There is work to be done on your positioning and situational awareness, but that's often to be expected for a new inductee into the class. Your grasp of your element is rather impressive though, I must admit."

"Oh yes. Absolutely," Volteer said eagerly. "Definitely. Unquestionably. I even noticed and observed a couple of techniques employed that even _I_ have only rarely seen before. I believe unreservedly and wholeheartedly that we will be able to teach you much, my young dragoness."

"Great!" Voltra beamed. "So I passed? I can be in the class?"

A smile slowly worked its way across Terrador's muzzle as he watched the dragoness's enthusiasm, and he nodded his head once.

"YES!" Voltra cheered, bouncing up into the air and punching a forepaw up triumphantly. "Oh, thank you! I won't let you down!"

"Of that I have no doubt. We will not lie to you; it will be a struggle at times, but if you put in your best effort each day there is no reason you shouldn't be able to excel. Welcome to the class, Voltra."

Voltra grinned the widest that Faren had seen yet, her eyes alight with joy and excitement, and after bowing her head to the Guardians in thanks she turned and hurried over toward Faren and the others as the other students began to rise and group together, discussing what they had just seen. Then Voltra reached the small waiting group and Chinook immediately patted her on the shoulder with a wing in congratulations.

"Nice work out there," he said with a large grin. "Those were some pretty neat moves you have there."

"That electric whip is something I hear not many electricity dragons can do," Enigma commented as she observed Voltra with a studying gaze, her expression masked as usual. "You have skill."

"Thanks," Voltra beamed. "Ancestors, I just can't believe I got in. This is the best day ever!"

Chinook laughed. "Sure looks like it from here."

"Ehh," Flash grunted suddenly, causing the others to pause and shoot him confused looks. "Not so fast, there."

"What is it?" Voltra asked with a puzzled frown.

Instead of answering, the white dragon merely pointed with a wingtip at the nearest doorway into the training room. Faren followed the gesture and jolted in shock when she saw the heavyset greyish-green scaled, dark brown chested earth dragon standing there observing the room, easily recognizable from the thunderball arena. His expression was set in a hard frown, his eyes holding a cold light. Faren shuddered at the sight of him, drawing farther behind her friends.

"Why is he here?" she asked in a quiet tone.

"Is he the other new student?" Voltra asked in a surprised tone.

As if in answer to her question, Terrador strode over to the other younger earth dragon at that moment with a welcoming expression on his face. He stopped in front of the adolescent and studied him for a second before speaking.

"Slate," he said. "Perfect timing. If you would like to take to the centre of the ring, we can begin your preliminary evaluation. Are you ready?"

Slate nodded without hesitation, a determined glare settling over his thick features.

"Excellent. Everyone! Our second new arrival is here. If you would make some room again, we can get his test underway."

The students hurried to comply, moving back to the walls of the room again. Slate then began padding toward the centre of the room, his strides heavy a filled with nothing but fierce self-assurance.

"Seriously?" Chinook grumbled as he watched the earth dragon. "The Guardians want _him_ in the class? Who even told them about him in the first place?"

"I did."

All eyes snapped around toward Enigma, looks of surprise and shock registering in everyone's expressions. Enigma seemed completely unfazed, however, returning their gazes impassively.

"Why?" Chinook said finally.

"When I was talking to them after our class the day after the thunderball game, when I told them about Voltra's ability, I mentioned that he was powerful," the black dragoness answered with a shrug. "I didn't know that they were going to consider him for the class, but I guess they thought he was worth taking a look at."

"Great," Flash groaned.

"Well...maybe it won't be so bad," Voltra said in an effort to lighten the mood. "Maybe we'll just be able to do our own thing and leave him to do his, and it'll all be fine."

By that point Slate had reached the centre of the ring, and when he had he spent a moment to sweep his gaze around the room, taking in the other students watching him intently. Then his eyes fell upon Faren, Flash, Chinook, Enigma and Voltra. Almost immediately his expression darkened when he recognized the three of them that had been in the thunderball arena, a dark sneer crossing his features.

All at once it became very clear just how wrong Voltra was.

"Or not..."

* * *

**I'll be posting the next chapter tomorrow evening. All that's left to do is proofread it, but I need to go to bed right now. Thanks again for your patience, and also thank you all for pushing this story past the 100 review mark since the last update! You guys are the best! :D**

** Until next time.  
**


	11. Chapter 11: A Seed of Doubt

**Well, as promised, here's the next chapter. :) This is one that I've actually been looking forward to getting to for a while, so I'm glad it's done. This chapter marks the beginning of the transition from laying the base to starting the main action, and so I'm very excited. :D**

**As always, hope you enjoy it. Read on!**

* * *

_Chapter 11: A Seed of Doubt_

"Well, goodnight you two young ones," Kaver said amicably as he turned to depart down the darkened corridors of Sky Haven. "I hope you both have a sound night's rest before the vote tomorrow. I'll meet you in the same place as we did this morning an hour after first light."

Spyro offered a tired smile to the councillor, he and Cynder pausing wearily outside the door to their assigned chamber. The corridors were lit only by the flickering glow of torchlight since the sun had descended below the horizon over an hour prior, signalling the end of a very long day. After all of the touring that the two young dragons had done over the course of that day it was a miracle that they were able to remain standing now.

"We'll be there," Spyro answered the wind dragon, nodding his head sluggishly. "Thanks for everything today."

"Yeah, we really had fun," Cynder added gratefully, despite the way she tried to stretch the dull aching out of her body that lingered from all of the walking they had done since morning. These new twinges only compounded the pains of leftover exhaustion from all the flying they had done to get to the city, but it was a small price to pay for the wonders they had seen that day.

"I'm glad to hear it," the wind dragon councillor smiled. "Now, I won't keep you any longer. Sleep well, both of you."

"Thanks, you too," Spyro replied.

Kaver bowed his head in farewell, then turned about and disappeared down the dim corridor. At the same time Spyro heard the door behind him creak open as Cynder entered their room and he promptly followed her. The room inside was almost pitch black, the only light coming from a faint ray of moonlight seeping in through the room's single small window in the back wall. As such it was barely enough for Spyro to be able to see the lantern sitting on a shelf beside him, which he quickly lit with his fire breath.

Soft flickering light filled the slightly cramped but cozy room as the lantern began glowing with Spyro's flame. The room itself was quite simple in terms of arrangement, with a smooth tiled stone floor, carved stone walls, the single window and a small fireplace for warmth built into the side wall. Aside from the collection of cushions for sleeping, the only furnishing was a couple of small end tables and a low wooden shelf by the door on top of which sat the lantern, Spyro's bag resting safely within. It looked to have been built for a single adult dragon to reside in but Spyro and Cynder still managed well in it with the two of them, having divided the bed cushions between them the night before.

"Well, that was a long day," Cynder yawned as she padded slowly over to her designated cushion pile and gratefully lowered herself down on top of them. "For such a small city there really is a lot to see here."

"Yeah, no kidding," Spyro chuckled. "I could spend all week exploring this place."

"Especially if you got lost again like this morning."

Spyro shot his roommate a hurt look, and Cynder laughed quietly before shifting about to try and find a more comfortable position for her sore body. Just at that moment, however, Spyro noticed a shiver run through the length of her form, making her cast an accusing glance up toward the open window.

"Cold?" he asked with a touch of concern.

"Maybe just a little," she relented after a short hesitation, but another shiver betrayed the true extent of her discomfort.

Spyro gave a thoughtful growl, feeling a similar tremor shoot down his spine when a breath of the chilled night air brushed against his scales from the window. Then, with an aura of decision about him, he crossed the room to the window and pressed a forepaw against the wall beneath it. There was a small rumble in the stone as a slab of rock slid across the opening, the purple dragon's earth power sealing it shut.

With that accomplished Spyro then immediately padded over to the fireplace, examining the wood stacked inside. He sucked in a breath of air in preparation to bathe the logs in flames, but then he hesitated when he saw the oddly-shaped backing on the fireplace's left wall: flint granules. He then recalled something that Kaver had said earlier in their tour, about how the absence of fire dragons among the city's original population had led the earth dragons to incorporate flint into the fireplaces to make lighting fires easier.

Taken by curiosity, Spyro let the heat that had been blooming in the back of his throat dissipate. Then, instead, he spat out a rough lump of stone from between his jaws at the surface of the flint. It impacted with a sharp _CLACK_ and a couple of faint sparks erupted in reward of his effort. They touched down on the ready tinder but after smoldering for a second they simply fizzled out. Spyro frowned, and behind him he heard Cynder laughing again.

"Not as easy as it sounds?" she asked teasingly.

Spyro answered with a simple "Hmph," at the same time falling back on his original plan and lighting the wood with a blast of his fire breath. Then he turned back and paced over to his own small bed of cushions, sinking into their plush embrace with a quiet sigh.

"I guess it takes a bit of practice to get it right," he said with a mildly embarrassed shrug.

Cynder laughed again, but then her expression clouded a touch. While she apparently tried to hide it Spyro noticed the way her wings rattled almost unnoticeably from another bout of shivering.

"Still cold?" he asked her, half rising from his cushions despite his body's protests.

"I'll be fine," she answered quickly. "Just need to wait for the fire to warm the room up a bit more, is all."

Another frown appeared on Spyro's muzzle, knowing that she was just being brave. After only a brief hesitation he rose to his paws again and moved over to a recess in the wall nearby that was used for storage, Cynder watching him curiously. In the recess a set of soft fur blankets had been folded neatly and stacked, awaiting the use of the room's guests, and Spyro didn't hesitate to accept the invitation. He grabbed the top one carefully in his jaws, then clumsily turned back with the blanket falling around his forepaws and made his way over to the black dragoness, who was watching him with a half-puzzled, half-amused expression on her face. Once he reached her side he flicked his head back so that the blanket swung around and fell over his shoulders, then used his wing to spread it over his companion as he lay down by her side on the edge of her cushions, allowing them to share its warmth.

"Better?" he asked her past the nervous flutter that rose in his chest from being so close to her.

Cynder regarded him with a look of surprise for a moment, but then slowly the amused smile returned to her features.

"Getting a bit bolder, are we?" she asked playfully.

"Is this alright?" Spyro asked her, a note of uncertainty in his voice. "Because if you'd rather have your space I'll..."

The next words died in his throat when he felt Cynder shift her body closer to his, a sensation of warmth seeping through him as her flank pressed against his own. Cynder's smile grew larger and gentler.

"No, this is nice," she told him. Her eyes swivelled over to the fire burning quietly a few feet away from them and a long, slow sigh escaped her lips, her body relaxing against the purple dragon's. "It's been a while since it was just the two of us like this, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, it has," Spyro replied quietly, at the same time letting his head sag down onto the cushions as his weariness from the day of touring finally caught up with him. Then he added, "Sometimes I think too long..."

Cynder looked down at him with another soft smile, then set her head down as well and nuzzled over tentatively until her snout rubbed against his jaw, being careful not to catch him with her horns. Spyro felt his smile grow wider at her touch, and a contented rumble escaped him unbidden.

"I missed it," she told him, her voice partially muffled by the cushions and his scales.

"Me too," he answered. Then an idea suddenly struck him, and he opened his eye to look down at Cynder again, though he didn't move. "Let's make each other a promise."

"I'm listening."

The purple dragon paused for a moment as he used his free wing to adjust the blanket over himself, then shifted even closer to his companion's side on the cushions, his other wing still resting across her shoulders and back. His eyes drifted back to the fire, watching it distantly as he sorted out his thoughts. Finally he said, "Let's promise that when we get back to Warfang we'll try harder to find some time just for each other. I mean, things have been going pretty well between us for the past little while, but it's not like what we had before, is it?"

"No, it's not," Cynder murmured, a faint tint of regret creeping into her voice.

"Well I want to get closer to you again, Cynder. But I know that won't happen if we don't make the time for it. Do you know what I mean?"

The black dragoness let out a soft, contented growl from her throat at these words from him. While Spyro couldn't see it, a joyful smile crept across her muzzle as if she had been hoping secretly to hear him say such a thing for a long time.

"Yeah, I think I do," she replied. "And I would like that."

It was Spyro's turn to smile as a feeling of relief and joy flowed through him, warming him from the inside out. "So we have a deal?"

"We do," Cynder sighed happily, shifting her head so that it rested snugly against her companion's cheek. "Goodnight, Spyro."

"Goodnight Cynder."

A long, deep yawn emanated from the purple hero's mouth, and with a tired sigh he closed his eyes and relaxed his aching body at last, softly tightening his hold on Cynder with his wing. Then, feeling warm and filled with blissful contentment the likes of which he hadn't experienced in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to succumb to the comforting embrace of sleep...

***.*.***

What started out as an embrace didn't take long to transform into a crushing grip that was far more sinister.

Why his life seemed to bear an obsessive compulsion to smother moments of peace and joy underneath the looming threat of discord he would never understand, but seemingly only seconds after closing his eyes he was assaulted by a string of sharp images. Fragments of memories from throughout the last few months of his life sped past at a dizzying pace, leaving him reeling.

They began with a deceptive air of happiness. Scenes from the opening celebrations of the Liberty Festival in Warfang were intercut with episodes of serenity in Bayside, flashes of him surrounded by his friends juxtaposed with images of him and Cynder together in what had arguably been the happiest time they had ever known. He saw his parents, the Guardians, even Ignitus, all of them with smiles on their faces and their presence exuding a feeling of warmth and security. These visions caused a feeling of relaxation and happiness to fill his being, and he could have spent forever reminiscing in them.

But then, inevitably, the misty images began to change. It began slowly, with smiles becoming mildly strained, concerned, as though given in a feeble attempt at comfort when a threat was looming overhead. Soon the smiles had been replaced with expressions of uncertainty, quickly followed after by anxiety and doubt. Bright sunlight faded behind thick, angry clouds. The atmosphere of warmth and comfort became one of foreboding. It was a feeling Spyro knew too well—the uneasy silence before a storm. He was most familiar with it from his time at the old Temple just before the Night of Eternal Darkness had sent his world spiralling forever.

Then, in a single violent flash, everything turned to chaos.

Confused voices layered over each other to the point that nothing was intelligible except a deafening roar. The blazing glare of raging fires and all manner of elemental magic was blinding, and yet it still wasn't enough to obscure the ever-increasing horrors that assaulted his mind's eye. Hoards of grublins intermixed with even fouler monsters could be seen sweeping over homes and villages indiscriminately, with the burning buildings of Warfang somehow always forming the backdrop of each terrible scene. Dragons, moles and cheetahs were helpless before the relentless tide of the dark creatures, their screams of pain and fear splitting the darkened sky, the smell of blood clogging the air. The screams were torturous to hear and always inescapable, and they only made the images—both remembered and imagined—all the more painful to witness.

Spyro was helpless to block out the visions as they came at him with rapidly increasing frequency, bringing each torture of his past surging back to him when he wished nothing more than to never have to endure them again. The images weren't even the worst of it anymore as he began to feel the pain that had been inflicted on his body by the paws of Malefor, Nexus, and every other foe he had ever faced.

Faster and faster the images and feelings came, with Spyro powerless to escape them. The sickness that had almost killed him; the stinging bite of grublin blades; Malefor's convexity; the various battles against the pirate mutts all mixed together into one; watching Flash's brother Claymore die right in front of him; his dislocated wing; the poisoning that had come so near to claiming his life. They all pounded mercilessly against him, causing him to wonder how he had even survived so much in such a short span of time. The only thing that remained constant in all of the visions was that fateful night in Warfang when the grublins invaded, scenes from that battle for some reason always playing in the background of everything else. Soon the memories started to blur together, the noise and light threatening to overwhelm him until at length they all merged together into one overpowering surge. The only thing that was able to break through in the end was a single, all-too-easily recognizable shriek of burning rage that emerged from the jaws of a terrifying black dragoness. A dragoness who was at that very moment driving her lethal tail blade straight for his chest.

Spyro jolted awake with a strangled gasp as the piercing agony tore right through his heart, stealing his breath away and causing his chest and lungs to constrict painfully from the shock. He was utterly unaware of his surroundings as he struggled for air, his whole body trembling uncontrollably and his eyes as wide as saucers. It took several attempts to take in a full breath, and when finally he could manage it he began gasping in air as if he hadn't had it in ages. All the while his body continued to shake violently as the terrible images kept flashing in his mind.

"Spyro?"

The purple dragon gave an instinctual yelp of fear and surprise when something brushed against his shoulder. Faster than he could even think he had recoiled sharply from the contact, wide eyes gazing through the blackness in an attempt to make out the new danger. He faltered, however, when he was met with the sight of Cynder gazing back at him with an expression of profound worry on her face—and slight hurt as well. It was an odd mix of relief and fear that rushed through him, the last image from his nightmare flaring in his mind again. It took him a second to realize that he had retreated even farther from her in the split second that had passed since she'd spoken. Slowly, though, he was able to quell the frantic racing of his heart, his breathing calming gradually as reason came back to him and he remembered where he was.

"You were dreaming of that night again, weren't you?" the black dragoness asked a moment later in a cautious, tight voice.

Spyro's only reply at first was a long, heavy sigh, a few residual tremors still shooting through his form. His gaze fell toward the ground for a moment as he struggled to drive out the images from the dream that refused to be budged from his mind. After a long pause, though, he nodded his head.

"Among other things," he muttered weakly.

He easily caught the flash of pain and regret that glinted in Cynder's emerald eyes before she slowly, almost tentatively, edged closer to him. He glanced up at her briefly before letting out another sigh and closing his eyes tightly, letting his head dip forward until his forehead bumped against her brow. She didn't pull away from the contact, and Spyro felt the swirling emotions inside of him ebb slowly from the soothing touch.

"It's okay," she whispered to him. "It's over. Nothing can hurt you here."

Her gentle words helped tremendously in calming his nerves. He opened his eyes again and pulled back to meet her gaze, offering a small smile of gratitude.

"I know. Thanks."

She returned the smile, looking relieved, and Spyro made to move closer to her again, wishing to share an embrace with her to chase away the remnants of his fears. Cynder's eyes never left his own, showing her concern and eagerness to do whatever she could to help him escape his torments.

He was unable to go a single step though, because as soon as he had risen he was immediately dropped by a bolt of pain that lanced up from his left foreleg, causing him to cry out sharply and collapse onto the bed cushions.

"Spyro!" Cynder exclaimed in renewed concern, appearing by his side in an instant.

"Damn it," Spyro groaned through gritted fangs as he glared down bitterly at his leg and the offending poison scar upon it. He tried flexing the limb to work out the stiffness but only succeeded in causing another wave of pain to sweep through him, making him wince and gasp. "Not again."

"How bad is it?"

"Worse than usual," the purple dragon sighed. "And I thought it was finally getting better."

"Wounds like this are tricky things," Cynder answered sadly, lying down by his side and gently lifting his foreleg with a paw to examine it more closely. "It's probably just tension again from the nightmare. Just try and relax."

Spyro simply nodded, doing his best to unclench the muscles in his leg despite the piercing ache. It didn't have much effect though, and a moment later he gave a frustrated sigh. Cynder easily noticed this, another sad glint flashing in her eyes, but just then it seemed like she had an idea and looked up to catch his gaze.

"Spyro? You trust me, right?"

Spyro faltered, caught greatly off guard by the question, and for a fleeting second his pain faded to the back of his mind as he regarded her in confusion.

"Yeah, of course," he answered finally.

She gave a small nod, though she still looked hesitant about something. Then she said, "There's something I want to try that I think will help. Just relax and don't move, alright?"

Spyro didn't answer, still too puzzled, but it seemed as if the question had been rhetorical because Cynder proceeded anyway. She lifted the forepaw that wasn't cradling his leg, and Spyro instinctually went rigid when the pad of her paw began glowing with an eerie green light. A small rush of fear and doubt passed through him, but when she looked up at him again and her eyes met his he felt a strange sort of calmness wash over his anxiety. Feeling him relax, Cynder shifted her gaze down to the scar on his leg and began carefully lowering her poison-imbued paw towards it.

A hissing gasp leaked through Spyro's jaws and he tensed again when her paw made contact, his scales flaring with a burning feeling at the touch of Cynder's poison element, but before he could pull away he faltered again when as quickly as the pain had come it vanished. Gradually, to his great surprise, the sharp pain in his leg was replaced by a dull aching as relief spread from the point of contact with Cynder's paw.

"How are you doing that?" he asked her in mild shock.

"It's an idea I got from your mother," the dragoness explained, her eyes never leaving her careful work as she began softly massaging his damaged leg with her still-glowing paw, further soothing his discomfort. "When we were looking for you in the swamp I was asking her all sorts of questions about it, and one of the things I asked was about one of the mushrooms we passed that she said they used for medicines."

Spyro knew which kind she probably meant, for it was an extremely common ingredient in all manner of remedies for disinfecting injuries and promoting healing that the dragonflies used almost constantly. "What about it?"

"I found it weird that it was used in medicine, because I could easily tell that the juices from it were poisonous when I touched it."

This caught Spyro by surprise. "Really?"

Cynder nodded. "Even lethal if it was too concentrated. But that got me thinking about something Terrador told me during one of my lessons, where he said that poison dragons used to be able to tailor their poison to do all kinds of different things. So I thought: if that mushroom could be used to heal, maybe my poison could be too."

Spyro's gaze fell to her paw again, watching with a feeling of mixed awe and bewilderment as he thought this over. He had never considered that there might be any uses for poison other than destructive ones, but the rapidly fading pain in his leg told a far different story. All at once he found he had a new appreciation for these so-called 'dark' elements, and was slightly amazed that something that seemed so dangerous and threatening on the surface could really be the opposite.

_Not unlike her_.

"So what are you doing to your poison to make it do this?" he asked after a brief pause.

"I'm producing it as a very weak kind of neurotoxin," Cynder replied. "It's targeting the nerves in your leg. Basically it's shutting them down for a while so you can't feel anything. I don't know how long it will last, but I thought it was still worth a shot and didn't think there was much risk of damaging anything as long as I was careful."

"That's amazing," he said, processing this information slowly, and Cynder gave a small chuckle. "Is it hard to do?"

"Sort of," she shrugged. "I've been able to make my poison do different things for years now, but it was usually unconscious. You know, burning through skin sometimes, acting slowly through injection at others, basically just doing what I _needed_ it to do when I used it." She paused thoughtfully. "I guess the same is true here too. It's just a more...conscious effort this time. Is it helping?"

Spyro nodded quickly. "Yeah, it feels a lot better. That's really impressive."

A soft smile touched the black dragoness's lips, hard to make out in the darkness. Deeming that her treatment was complete, she allowed her power to fade and released Spyro's foreleg, freeing him to lift it and test it out. The scales and muscles around his scar had gone numb, taking the pain completely away. It was a deeply strange sensation and Spyro found it difficult to get used to as he flexed his leg experimentally, but it was certainly far better than the pain.

"So how is it?" Cynder asked a minute later.

"Good," he answered, a grateful smile quickly crossing his muzzle. "It still feels pretty tense, but the pain is gone. Thanks, Cynder."

Cynder's own smile grew a touch wider, obviously glad she could help.

"Well if it's tense then maybe we should go walk around for a little while to stretch it out," she suggested.

Spyro considered this option for only a second before he gave a small nod of his head.

"It's not like I'm going to be getting back to sleep for a while anyway," he sighed, his mood turning slightly more sombre for a moment. He slowly rose to his paws, testing his weight on his left foreleg before turning to Cynder, who had also quickly risen. "Are you sure you want to come? Or would you rather sleep?"

"I'm happy to keep you company," she answered without hesitation. "I like night-time walks every now and then anyway."

Spyro couldn't help giving another small smile, grateful for her constant support. "Okay, then let's go."

Cynder nodded in agreement, motioning for him to take the lead. He did so, turning toward the door and padding over to it, moving cautiously so as not to trip in the darkness. He could hear Cynder moving with much more ease behind him, her shadow powers granting her an advantage in the absence of light, and he felt a small twinge of envy that he didn't have a similar ability. Being able to sense the earth helped considerably, but as both of their abilities developed during their training it became clear that it just couldn't compete in this regard.

Still, it was more than enough to allow him to find the door without incident, and when he pushed it open he was greeted with the soft glow of torchlight in the corridor beyond. With a comfortable silence between them the pair set off with no destination in mind, conscious to keep their pawsteps as quiet as possible in case there happened to be anyone else sleeping in the rooms they passed. Within a couple of minutes they had left the inhabited hallways behind them, emerging in the same stretch of passages they had found themselves wandering through that morning around the city's perimeter, and from there on they were able to drop their caution and walk without further worry.

Spyro didn't know how long their meandering lasted, but he found that he didn't truly care. Aside from the occasional night watchmen that they would cross paths with the corridors were deserted and absolutely silent, though it was the comforting kind of quiet. Very few torches were to be found in these outer passages, possibly to keep from obstructing the guards' views through the open windows overlooking the sleeping landscape. Instead most of the light available came from the moons and the stars, the pale bluish aura suffusing the air with a sense of tranquility. The crisp, fresh scent of the high-altitude air that carried through the windows on the gentle wind only added to this feeling, and Spyro breathed it in greedily as he enjoyed this moment of peace with his companion.

Eventually they came across a lookout post that offered a spectacular view of the night-time world below them, and deciding that they could use a small rest they padded up to the arched gap in the heavy stone wall and sat back on their haunches. There they sat for several minutes in silence, gazing out over the landscape and admiring how incredibly different it looked under the night sky, shrouded in blackness and etched in pale, silvery highlights. It was almost otherworldly, and it made Spyro almost glad that he had woken up so that they could get this chance to see it.

There was still the cold to consider, of course. The altitude and the gradual changing of the seasons could easily be felt in that less-than-sheltered overlook, and it caused the two dragons to huddle together closely to try and share in each others' warmth. This necessity was something that Spyro couldn't say he minded, though, and judging by the faint smile that turned up the corners of Cynder's muzzle she didn't either.

"It's so quiet," Cynder commented after a time, her voice barely more than a whisper as though she was afraid to disturb the silence. "Warfang is never like this."

"Not even the swamp is," Spyro replied just as quietly. "You could always hear some sort of night creatures there. Here there's nothing. It's so strange..."

"I like it," Cynder said firmly, causing Spyro to glance toward her. "It's so peaceful. I feel safe, like I don't have to worry about who's watching."

"Why would anyone be watching?"

This time it was Cynder who glanced toward him, studying him, and finally she answered, "I don't know. I guess I'm just used to being scrutinized back in the city, of people's wary looks. They usually aren't suspicious anymore or anything, but they don't forget either." There was a brief pause, but then she turned her gaze toward him again with a thoughtful expression. "I guess you have your own kind of scrutiny to deal with too, huh? Everyone expecting you to behave like the hero and all that."

Spyro gave a small snort, a wry, half-grin pulling at his mouth. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I try not to think about it usually. Maybe that's why I like to spend so much time with you and the others instead of trying to meet new people. I know I'm not being judged when I'm with you guys."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Another silence elapsed, broken only by the long, quiet breath that Spyro took in and released. He could feel his tension melting gradually away with each breath he took, the images from his dream fading back into memory where they belonged. He felt Cynder shift closer to him as another quiet gust of wind brushed past them, leaning against his flank for warmth. He shifted his wing so that it wasn't in the way, allowing it to rest limply against her back.

"Do you ever think about leaving?" she asked suddenly.

Surprised by this question, Spyro turned an inquisitive look toward her and saw that she was gazing out toward the horizon with a distant expression. It was a few moments before he was able to respond.

"No," he said, wondering where this question had come from. "Why, do you? You don't like Warfang?"

"I do," Cynder nodded. "But I do wonder what it would be like to just fly away somewhere quiet where no one knew me and start over. Do you remember when we were in Bayside, what it felt like then?"

"It probably wasn't the same for me," he replied with a small smile. "My colour kind of gives me away. Even if they don't know my name, they still know _about_ me."

Cynder let out a small grunt, a look of contemplation in her eyes. "I guess that's true. It's a shame really. I can't tell you what it was like to just meet someone out in the street and not wonder if there was suspicion or fear hidden behind a friendly facade. Maybe there's still somewhere that you could find that too if you just looked far enough."

"Maybe," Spyro nodded thoughtfully. "But I don't really feel like I need to go searching around for that. Warfang is where I belong, and so I'm happy there."

"You sound so sure," Cynder remarked.

Spyro merely shrugged. "I guess it's because of how I think of the Guardians like family after the way they took me under their wing. For as long as I've known them they've guided me, supported me, trusted me. I guess I just can't imagine being anywhere else but with them." He looked down toward Cynder again. "What about you? Do you think you'll find that one place where you belong someday?"

Cynder met his gaze for a moment, surprised, before a large smile spread across her features.

"I already have," she told him softly.

"Oh yeah?" he asked.

Cynder nodded, her sparkling emerald eyes gazing straight into his own. "It's right here. By your side."

Spyro blinked, caught unprepared for such a response, but slowly his surprise was replaced by a feeling of warmth and happiness that spread outward from his chest. A tender smile grew on his muzzle, one that Cynder returned in kind before letting her head rest against the side of his neck, just beneath the edge of his jaw. Spyro savoured the close contact, using his wing to gently pull her closer to him and letting out a contented sigh.

"Spyro?" Cynder murmured a second later.

"Yes?" he answered, not shifting his position.

There was a beat of silence. Then she said, "I'm glad we're okay."

Spyro's smile spread wider, taking on a slightly amused air, and he leaned his head back enough to meet Cynder's gaze.

"Just okay?"

Cynder let out a small chuckle. "You know what I mean."

Spyro chuckled as well. Then, as a new sensation of fluttering warmth bloomed in his chest, he did something that he hadn't done in quite some time. With careful, almost hesitant motions, he leaned his head forward until the side of his muzzle brushed against that of Cynder's, his sensitive facial scales rubbing gently against her own. He moved slowly, feeling anxious about pushing things too quickly, but his fears proved to be baseless when Cynder returned the gesture without hesitation, leaning into his touch and angling her head to maximize the contact between them. They remained locked in that posture for what could have been ages, neither of them holding any desire to break away from the other in that moment.

"I love you, Spyro," Cynder whispered, her breath tickling his scales and sending a chill through him. "You know that, right?"

"I do," he answered just as softly, not moving or opening his eyes. "And I love you too."

A long, slow sigh filled with utter happiness seeped out through Cynder's nostrils, and she adjusted her head to rest more snugly against Spyro's. He could feel an aura of contentment and satisfaction radiating from her, as though some sort of secret, inner doubt had been put to rest forever. Spyro smiled once more as he felt her relaxing, wishing that this moment would never have to end.

Unfortunately, as seemed to be the way of things, he would have no such fortune.

"Interesting."

Spyro jolted in surprise at the sudden unknown voice that sounded out from the corridor behind the young pair, and both he and Cynder whipped their heads around in unison toward the source, jumping to their feet by little more than instinct. Spyro was expecting to see some patrolling guard that had stopped while passing them during their rounds, but there was no such dragon in sight. Puzzled, his eyes flitted around the passage in search of the intruder, but it still took him a moment before he spotted him. When he did, though, he faltered in surprise and confusion.

"Who are you?" Cynder asked, a look of similar uncertainty on her angular face.

The newcomer, who was some form of tiny bird that Spyro had never seen before, didn't reply, and in the silence Spyro studied him curiously. His feathers were a mix of deep red and vibrant orange, two large golden eyes peering up at him and Cynder with an odd, unsettling sort of light inside of them. A tiny black beak protruded from the centre of his mostly-round face, a pair of diminutive wings folded against the sides of his body. Two feet reminiscent in form to those of a hawk or eagle supported him, the miniscule points of developing talons barely poking out from the toes. All in all he stood only a couple of inches off of the ground, and he had a distinct look of infancy about him. He couldn't have been more than a couple of months out of the egg.

There was something not entirely right about his eyes, though, and Spyro had to suppress a shudder whenever the bird's gaze met his own. There should have been a sparkle of innocence and curiosity in those eyes, but while his expression was plenty inquisitive there was no innocence about his bearing at all. His eyes seemed to pierce right through him, looking into his soul with an ease that only Ignitus and the Chronicler had ever been able to come remotely close to before.

"What's interesting?" he asked at length, his eyes narrowing a touch in suspicion.

"That you show such tenderness," the bird replied in a distinctly childish, high-pitched voice, "while such darkness dwells in your heart."

Spyro's eyes widened for a brief instant before he immediately became defensive, his posture taking on a more defensive quality and a challenging light glinting in his eyes.

"You have no right to talk that way about her," he said firmly, not caring in that moment whether this bird was merely a chick or not.

He faltered, however, when the unknown bird turned a thoroughly puzzled look toward him.

"I didn't mean her."

Spyro faltered again, a surge of confusion shooting through him, and out of the corner of his eye he saw that Cynder had a similar reaction. It was a long moment before he was able to find his voice again.

"What?"

"It's not at all hard to make out," the bird answered, taking a couple of tiny steps closer to the two dragons. "She may have been touched by evil in the past, but while the scars remain the darkness itself is long gone. But you...there is something sinister trapped deep inside of you. You are a very conflicted dragon inside."

Spyro couldn't believe what he was hearing and seeing, and for a second he was convinced that he must have still been dreaming. This entire situation was backward in so many different ways, and he quickly glanced up at Cynder for some kind of confirmation that she was hearing the same thing he was. The look in her eyes more than acknowledged that, and he turned his incredulous gaze toward the bird again.

"How do you know so much?" he asked uncertainly, a hint of fear mixing with his confusion as he thought that the secret side of him that he had guarded so closely had just been discovered.

To his surprise, the bird laughed. But while this laugh sounded just as one would expect from a small child on the surface, underneath there was that same unsettling quality that Spyro had noticed in the bird's eyes. The sound sent a cold shudder down his spine.

"Don't let my appearance fool you," the bird told him with a strange smirk. "I'm not nearly as young as I look."

Spyro was perplexed by this cryptic response from the bird, but very quickly Cynder let out a surprised gasp beside him. He turned a confused look toward her only to see her staring at the bird with an expression of surprise and comprehension.

"You're a phoenix," she said slowly.

The small bird merely nodded.

It suddenly clicked within Spyro's mind why he had been sensing this almost unnatural aura about the strange bird. There was no innocence within the orange and red avian's eyes because it had been long erased by time. How old could he really be, he wondered? How many lifetimes had he witnessed in the world already? He had heard stories from the Guardians about how phoenixes couldn't die from age, instead going through a process of rebirth in which fire consumed their old, failing bodies and a brand new body was born from within the flames while their minds and spirits endured. It was something that he had always had a difficult time grasping just from the stories, and it was no easier now with one of the reclusive birds standing right in front of him.

"You are quite the mystery, purple one," the phoenix said a moment later—rather ironically, Spyro thought. His golden eyes had taken on a glazed, distant appearance as he spoke, as though he was looking at something that wasn't physically there. "The love you display is genuine, and yet there is a strange sort of clash within your soul, as though a part of you is rebelling against those feelings without you realizing it. Your nature is at war with itself, it seems."

"What...what are you talking about?" Spyro asked, unnerved by the phoenix's words and doubting if he should believe anything it was saying, though something instinctually told him that he should. "Why should I have any doubts about my feelings for Cynder?"

"I never said that you did," the phoenix countered, somewhat to Spyro's mystification. "But perhaps such feelings aren't truly natural for one such as yourself?"

"I have a hard time believing that," Cynder snorted.

"Do you now?" the phoenix asked with another smirk. "Well, that isn't surprising, but you must surely know by now that you can never really know what to expect from a purple dragon, can you?"

Neither Spyro nor Cynder had anything that they could say in response to this.

"Your race is one that is enshrouded in a great deal of mystery, purple one," the bird continued in a tone that seemed suited to a scholar lecturing an ignorant commoner, something that was greatly at odds with the infantine pitch of his voice. "I suspect that even you don't really know what exactly you are."

"And you do?" Spyro asked, becoming defensive.

A strange, almost amused gleam appeared within the phoenix's eyes, and slowly he began turning around and walking on his tiny legs farther into the darkened corridors. As he departed, he glanced back over his wing at the two dragons.

"Let me show you something," he said mysteriously.

Spyro hesitated, still feeling greatly unnerved by this ancient bird in an infant's body, and he exchanged an uncertain glance with Cynder. He could see in her eyes a wary kind of curiosity, however, and he had to admit that he also wanted to know what this stranger's purpose was. With a slow breath to collect himself, Spyro set off after the phoenix with Cynder right by his side.

The pace was, understandably, slow with someone as small as the phoenix chick leading them, but even so it wasn't long before the path they were following began to lead them farther away from the populated portion of the city. The corridors began sloping downward, sets of stairs taking them deeper into the bedrock of the butte. The torches began to grow fewer and farther between, casting an eerie gloom onto the walls. The passages were also beginning to show signs of neglect, cracks and missing chips showing in the walls, giving the area the impression of being one that the city's inhabitants didn't regularly enter.

All the while, Spyro's anxious questions continued to grow in strength in his mind. Who was this phoenix? Why was he so interested in them? What did he know?

It seemed that Cynder had her own questions on her mind as well, because it wasn't much longer before she finally broke the silence and spoke up.

"Where are you taking us?" she asked, her tone wary as she glanced around at their surroundings.

"To a forgotten place," the phoenix answered. "You see, the citizens above are not the first dragons to dwell inside this butte. Millennia ago it was home to a small, isolated colony of nomads. The natural caves and passages that the earth dragons expanded into their new city were these dragons' home, and in these abandoned areas signs of their time here still remain if you know where to look for them."

Just then the unnamed phoenix turned abruptly to his left and walked over to a particularly large crack in the wall, the surface looking almost as if it were the site of some ancient cave in, the stone lumpy and irregular like chunks of debris that had been fused and compressed together over centuries. With quick, nimble movements, the phoenix hopped from perch to perch up the wall, then into a gap in the stone where he disappeared from sight. For a second Spyro and Cynder simply stood there gazing at the crack in surprise.

"Do you think he wants us to follow him?" Spyro asked at length.

"Probably," Cynder nodded. "How do you want to do this? I can get in using shadow, but what about you? Open it up with earth?"

Spyro stepped up to the wall and rested a forepaw against the lumpy surface, frowning in concentration. Only a second later, though, he gave a grunt of irritation.

"No good," he told her. "The space on the other side of it is unstable. If I try and open it up it might collapse."

"Great," Cynder sighed.

Spyro then turned to face her, an inquisitive thought forming within his mind. "Do you think you would be able to take me through with you?"

A look of surprise flashed across the black dragoness's features. "You mean like what Enigma did?"

Spyro nodded. Cynder gave a small, thoughtful grunt as her gaze drifted away, an expression of uncertain contemplation settling on her face. Eventually she gave a hesitant shrug.

"I don't know," she relented. "She has a better grasp of that sort of technique than I do. I'm not sure if it would work."

"You could try," Spyro told her, taking a step closer. "You already proved tonight that you have a knack for picking up new things with your elements if you put your mind to it."

"That was different," Cynder protested, her tone becoming forceful. "I knew that nothing bad could happen if something went wrong before. The poison I was using was too weak to do any damage to you if I had messed up. But if I don't do this right you could be really, really hurt, if not worse!"

Spyro hesitated at this, a worried frown creasing his brow as he considered their options. He glanced behind him at the crack in the wall where the phoenix had vanished again, feeling a deep, restless curiosity gnawing at his gut. As unnerved as he was by what that bird had said about him and whatever it was he was hinting at, he felt he just _needed_ to know what this was all about. He had tried his best to put the disturbing inconsistencies that had been cropping up from his encounters with the other three purple dragons he had come across, but he just couldn't ignore the blatant gaps in his knowledge about what he was any longer. If this phoenix knew something about him, he _had_ to find out what it was.

"I trust you," he said, turning to meet Cynder's gaze once again.

Cynder paused, clearly conflicted and grappling with her doubts, but when she saw the burning need in Spyro's eyes to sort out this mystery she let out a long, defeated sigh.

"Alright," she said, stepping toward him. "Don't move."

Spyro nodded his head and stood as still as possible as Cynder came to a stop directly in front of him. He could see shadow beginning to leech from her scales, sinking down to the stony ground in a swirling mist. At the same time she slowly reared up and placed her forepaws on his shoulders, bringing her wings around to envelop him and pull him tight against her. This caught him by surprise but he forced himself to remain still as the shadows began swirling around the two of them with new intensity.

All at once his world was consumed in blackness, that same crushing and stretching sensation that he had experienced the last time he had done this taking hold of him with shocking strength. Even though he had been expecting it this time the unnatural feelings seemed to hit with much more force than before and caused a jolt of fear to shoot through his being. It wasn't just uncomfortable, it was painful. His instincts began screaming at him to try and escape as it seemed like the very life was being squeezed out of him, but he was helpless to do anything but wait for it to end.

Only a split second later, it did. He staggered with a disoriented gasp as the veil of utter blackness fell away from his vision, and he shook his head sharply to clear the tremendous dizziness from it. Once his vision began to clear he looked up in time to see Cynder pulling away from him, releasing him from her hold.

"That really does feel weird," he said, still feeling a bit unsteady.

"Are you alright?" she asked with concern clear in her voice and expression.

He nodded quickly, a smile forming on his muzzle as the abnormal sensations faded away into nothingness. "Yeah. I knew you could do it."

A small, grateful smile graced Cynder's own muzzle at those words. However, it was short lived as the two dragons remembered the situation they were in and looked around at the dim chamber within which they were now standing.

It looked to be a small section of corridor that had collapsed on both ends, creating a narrow room about a dozen metres in length that was strewn with haphazard pieces of stone debris piled against the walls and scattered across the floor. The only light came from a lone outcropping of red spirit gem that had somehow forced itself through the wall in the back upper corner of the claustrophobic space. The only other thing not made of stone within the room was the small bed of twigs and dried grasses that formed the phoenix's nest, sitting just beneath the spirit gem on top of a mound of broken granite. The phoenix was just at that moment hopping up into said next, sitting down on its edge and rustling his wings.

"Why did you bring us here?" Spyro asked, puzzled.

"To offer you the first hint on your search to discover the truth behind your legacy," the phoenix answered with an odd smile. "To open your eyes to how little you really know."

"Why do you keep insisting that he knows nothing about himself?" Cynder asked, the challenging tone returning to her voice. "What proof do you have that the things the Guardians told him aren't true?"

"Do _you_ believe them to be true?"

Cynder opened her mouth to answer, but then she seemed to find no words to say. Spyro's mind flashed back to the encounter they had endured in the Well of Souls, and a chill ran down his spine as an image of Ragnor's burning crimson eyes flashed in his mind, boring into him. After that day, he didn't know what he could believe when it came to purple dragons anymore.

"What you were doubtlessly told about the race of purple dragons is utter fiction," the phoenix said harshly, jolting them both out of their brooding thoughts. "I do not know what drove the dragons to begin claiming that Malefor, this 'Dark Master', was the first purple dragon to ever exist, but I can tell you that in my time I have come across many forgotten clues that suggest otherwise. This 'prophecy' of your birth? It is no such thing. It is a warning."

"A warning?" Spyro repeated, shocked.

The phoenix nodded. "A warning rooted in ancient history, long before the time of Malefor came about. It was likely only out of desperation and necessity that it was twisted into a tale of hope for when your day arrived, and from what the stories say of you it seems it was not a futile effort, but a dishonest one nonetheless, even if it was unknowingly so."

"I don't believe you," Spyro growled with sudden fire in his voice, his teeth clenching in agitation. "I'm not evil, and I never was. So why would there need to be a warning about my birth?"

"Perhaps you already know."

Spyro faltered, wondering what the phoenix could possibly mean by that, but as soon as he opened his mouth to voice this confusion he was suddenly hit by a memory from six months before.

'_I am sure you were told I was the first of our kind, but I assure you, there have been many...This is the true nature of our kind. Your destiny is to destroy the world.'_

"No!" Spyro cried forcefully, causing Cynder to start beside him. "It's not true. Malefor was lying when he said those things!"

"I don't know anything about that," the phoenix shrugged, "but I could probably guess what you speak of judging by the way you second guess yourself now. But if you won't believe what others tell you, maybe it's something you have to realize for yourself?"

"Wha...?" Spyro began, flustered, but then he trailed off when the phoenix nodded his head at the wall across from his nest. When the purple dragon followed the motion he realized with a start that the ruined wall wasn't actually bare, but in fact was covered in some sort of ancient, barely-visible mural that had faded over countless years. The ruby glow of the spirit gem was barely enough to make any of it out.

Drawn by curiosity, Spyro slowly padded toward the mural, his gaze sweeping across it rapidly as his bright purple eyes searched rapidly for whatever it was the phoenix wanted him to see.

It looked almost like some kind of primitive form of historical record, done before parchment or books, the faded painting on the wall depicting a confusing array of seemingly unrelated snippets and stories passed down through time from the dragons that had inscribed them. He saw various scenes of dragons flying, hunting, gathering in primitive villages, locked in vicious battle, and much more. However, what truly caught his attention was the image he beheld when he reached the far end of the wall.

It was one of the most elaborately-detailed images he had seen so far, with evident care and diligence going into its creation as if it were something of great importance that _had_ to be told. The scene was of a broken plain of black stone and dried-out vegetation, a sky of ominous red forming the backdrop and framed in choking grey clouds. It would have been foreboding enough on its own, but the effect was only amplified ten-fold by the way the ground was breaking apart, enormous cracks and chasms opening up and causing the stone ground to buckle and heave. Curtains of fire erupted from some of the larger cracks, belching smoke into the sky.

And in the centre of it all, Spyro saw depicted what looked like the face of a dragon viewed in profile. Its head was tilted back, jaws gaping in a bellowing roar with razor-like fangs showing between them. An evil-looking ring of some kind of energy encircled it, and twelve small but bright purple stars formed a half-ring underneath the head within this energy, seeming to be somehow important. He couldn't make out any of the head's finer features, but even in the red glow of the spirit gem its colour was impossible to mistake.

Purple.

Everything else in the room seemed to fade out of existence as Spyro stood staring at the dragon face with a numb feeling of shock seeping through his being. He didn't notice when Cynder stepped up beside, nor did he hear her weak gasp of surprise at the sight of the picture. He didn't see the glance that she couldn't seem to help shooting his way as the apparent meaning of this ancient image sunk in for her, her eyes holding a mix of confusion and what could almost be called fear. All he felt was a churning storm of conflict and doubt.

His eyes drifted over the image again, taking in the fracturing landscape and the twelve stars, wondering what this development could possibly mean. He thought they seemed important, but this thought was lost in the confused jumble that occupied his mind. His questions about what the meaning of this picture could be were rooted in denial, though, and he knew it. Deep inside, as much as he tried to resist it, a nagging voice told him that there was only one thing this image _could_ mean.

'_...Your destiny is to destroy the world.'_

Spyro's eyes snapped shut and he shook his head sharply as the twisted voice of his old nemesis echoed in the depths of his mind. He simply _couldn't_ accept that it was true. Not after all that he had given to achieve the exact opposite end. But when he opened his eyes again and his gaze was met by the distressing image before him, his feelings of doubt only increased.

Behind him, the phoenix gave a small smirk out of the corner of his beak.

"Do you _really_ know what you are?"

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to reply that he was a hero, a warrior that had fought—and would continue to fight—for the lives of others. He wanted nothing else than to say _anything_ to reject the accusation that was being levelled at him.

But in the end, no words came...

* * *

**I just want to clarify one thing: The phoenix isn't purposely trying to be a jerk. He _is_ trying to help Spyro by forcing him to let go of all the things he's been told about himself. It's just that, understandably, after living for ages things like delicacy and tact have lost some of their value.  
**

**That being said, what could this mean? :O I know. Anyone else have ideas? XD**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you all again on the next (whenever it may happen to get done). It's also a chapter that I've been waiting to get to since starting the story, so it should be fun!**

**Until next time...**


	12. Chapter 12: The Enemy of My Enemy

**Look at that! I managed to get another chapter together before the month was up! :O What is this? I don't even...  
**

**I enjoyed writing this one a lot, so I hope the final quality lives up to the same standard. That's probably why it came together so quickly - aside from the fact that a certain chunk of it was already written, of course. I'll let you guess which one. XD**

**Well, hope you like it. :)**

* * *

_Chapter 12: The Enemy of My Enemy_

The cold stone passage was eerily silent as the sun began poking out from behind the eastern horizon. The world was still wrapped in the deceptively safe blanket of sleep, with very few creatures yet awake to disturb the stillness. Only the faint whisper of the wind across the plains could be heard from within the lone mesa that loomed over the landscape.

Tyrannica would have preferred anything but the silence. For one thing it reminded her too much of the emptiness of the Dark Realm that she had only just escaped. More importantly, however, it left her without anything to distract her from her thoughts. Without such distractions, her memories were free to run rampant within her mind, memories of a fateful day that she never wished to relive...

_The sound of the portal was louder than thunder as the indigo dragoness spilled out from its depths and crashed into the harsh stony floor of the cave. Her limbs were trembling with weakness from the effort of forcing the portal into existence, a feat that defied all logic and left her drained to the point that she was hovering on the brink of death. As such she found she hadn't the strength left to even rise from the ground._

"_You have the nerve to show your face here?" a horrible, soul-chilling voice snarled._

_Tyrannica had no chance to react before an enormous forepaw appeared and clamped down on her neck, cutting off her air supply as she was hoisted up off the ground. She gave a choked cry from the sudden pressure, but she cut herself short when she suddenly found herself staring straight into the fiery eyes of her master, pure rage pouring from the frightful orbs._

"_I do not know how you managed to return here, but did you truly think that this act of cowardice would be even remotely acceptable?!" the great purple dragon practically roared, and Tyrannica shrank back with primal terror swelling inside of her. There was nowhere she could go to escape with Ragnor holding her neck in a vice grip, though._

"_Master," she choked out past the crushing pressure on her throat. "I only—"_

"_SILENCE!" Ragnor snapped fiercely, his bellowing roar shaking the cave. He began dragging his prisoner toward the cavern exit, his grip tightening further to the point that his talons were beginning to cut into her scales. "It should have been clear to you that the only acceptable outcomes of your mission were success, or death! I have no place at my side for weakness or pathetic cowards who prize their own lives above the task that I have entrusted them! You are less than worthless to me!"_

"_But Master, I swear that's not true!" the dragoness pleaded desperately as she was pulled helplessly outside. Her voice was faint and raspy from the choke-hold she was still trapped in, but somehow her words were audible. "I didn't return because I feared dying for my mission, but because I knew I could do more to accomplish it for you if I survived! Now I can go back and try again when their guard is down, rather than you having to wait for another egg to hatch and grow! Please, Master, I'm no use to you dead!"_

"_You are no use to me at all!" Ragnor bellowed, throwing Tyrannica ahead of him into a new dark passage and advancing menacingly toward her, leaving her no choice but to stagger backward away from him in fear. "But death is too generous a payment for you after this betrayal. Instead, you will suffer the years of imprisonment that you have now forced me to endure because of your failure!"_

_Cold, numb horror swept through Tyrannica's being, wondering what he was planning for her but knowing there was nothing she could do to escape him. The passage behind her was a dead end, and even if she'd had the strength left to slip into Dragon Time Ragnor's huge frame was blocking the only way out._

"_Maybe the next in line will possess a greater sense of loyalty than you have displayed," the ancient dragon rumbled darkly._

_Tyrannica had no chance to defend herself. In a split second Ragnor's eyes had flashed a bright yellow and a beam of the same coloured energy lanced from his jaws and struck the ground at Tyrannica's feet. For a second she was blinded by the flash, but when her vision cleared and she tried to move she found that she couldn't. Confused, she looked down at her paws only to falter in horror._

_Her paws had become encased in rapidly-expanding amber crystal, the glowing gem flowing up her legs at a frightful pace. She began struggling desperately, but while she somehow managed to snap one forepaw free she was powerless to escape the rest. Soon the crystal had reached her hips and shoulders, still spreading._

"_Master, please, don't!" she cried. "I still serve you! I can still succeed! Give me another chance!"_

_Ragnor made no answer, watching with a cold scowl on his face as the dragoness was consumed by the time crystal. Soon it had reached her neck, closing around her face, and she uttered a final scream of despair that was quickly cut short as the crystal sealed across her snout._

"_NOOOOO—"_

Tyrannica gave a violent shudder as the sharp memory flashed before her mind's eye, filling her with a rush of panic and causing her to jolt to her feet. She began pacing agitatedly, reassuring herself that she was still free to move about. She compulsively inspected herself with her gaze, half-expecting to see a piece of amber crystal clinging to her scales. However, she found them to be clear.

She gave a breathless sigh of relief, but the feeling was short-lived before another flash from her memory invoked a jolt of reflexive terror and desperation within her. Spurred on by the instinctual need to flee such feelings, Tyrannica spun around and rushed through the passages of her new stronghold. She didn't stop until she reached the cavernous central chamber, which she had established as what could almost be called a throne room. There her searching gaze soon locked on the wispy form of a wraith commander and her expression hardened into a sneer.

"Why is this taking so long?" she demanded, her fear being transformed into anger. "The search has been going for days! How has an entire army that can travel at speeds any other creature can only dream of not been able to locate two damned whelps in all this time?!"

"_We are scouring the realms, Mistress,"_ the wraith responded promptly, unfazed by the purple dragoness's outburst, _"but the last report states that there is no trace of Nexus anywhere, and that Spyro is not in Warfang as he should be."_

"That's not good enough!" Tyrannica snapped. "We can't move forward with our Master's plan until we have them both in our grasp! So get your act together, stop wasting time and _find them_!"

The wraith said nothing in reply. Instead it simply vanished into a cloud of shadow, presumably to carry out Tyrannica's orders. When it had gone the dragoness let out an infuriated snarl and began pacing once more, trying desperately to keep her anxieties and fears from returning. However, no matter how hard she tried she couldn't escape the torment. Her imprisonment had left too deep a scar to simply push from her mind. So long as the threat of disappointing her Master remained, she would never find peace when faced with the possibility of such a punishment happening again.

Finally her raging emotions reached the flashpoint, and with a roar of fury and unbearable stress the indigo-purple dragoness swirled around and fired a razor-edged shard of dark crystal from between her jaws. The crystal slammed into one of other dark gem formations that provided illumination in the chamber, and with a screeching, shattering sound the projectile detonated and blew the lighting gem into millions of deadly fragments.

The subterranean chamber had grown to be too stifling for her to bear. Needing escape from the stone walls surrounding her, Tyrannica followed the passages to the nearest exit and flung herself out into the open air. As the morning breeze carried her away from the claustrophobic confines of the mesa and out into emptiness, she let out a long, forceful sigh as she struggled to quell the torrent of emotions within her soul.

_I have to be careful_, she told herself as she painstakingly allowed her tension fade, though it refused to disappear entirely. _If I get too worked up I might just end up killing those two wretched hatchlings when we finally do find them._

Letting out another sigh, Tyrannica angled her wings back toward the mesa and soared up to the grassy plateau that formed its top. With a pair or strong backward flaps she sank easily down onto its coarse dry surface, then padded over to the lip of the eastern cliff and sat back on her haunches, staring out over the plains. In the silence and solitude she heard her Master's voice echo distantly in her head.

'_Maybe the next in line will possess a greater sense of loyalty...'_

She snorted bitterly. How had that worked out? Malefor had attempted to remake the world for himself and leave Ragnor as a forgotten part of history. Spyro had followed Ragnor's purpose for him initially, but without ever having realized what his purpose _was_ that was simply thanks to chance, and now he was nothing more than a lost rogue. Nexus had shown promise, but as soon as he had been faced with the choice he had deserted his calling for his clueless brother.

_He would have been better off letting me continue my task instead_, she thought sourly. _I may have failed in my mission, but I never turned my back on him like they did._

She released a long, slow breath, knowing that there was nothing that could be done to change things now. All she could do was strive to salvage the situation by whatever means necessary and redeem herself. Then, finally, she could be free of the anxieties and fears that plagued her. Malefor had already been put down for his treachery, and in due time Spyro and Nexus would be as well, just as soon as they had lived out their usefulness.

_The one thing I know for sure_, Tyrannica told herself darkly,_ is that the more they prolong my torment, the more I will make them suffer for it._

The sound of movement behind her caught her attention, and she looked back over her wing to see two wraiths materializing out of a patch of shadow. One of them was the very same one that she had just sent out minutes before, and she wondered why it had returned so quickly.

"What is it?" she asked impatiently.

"_The newest report has just arrived, Mistress,"_ the first answered in its death-like voice.

Something in the creature's tone caused a hint of intrigue to flicker to life within the indigo dragoness, and she raised a scaly brow.

"And?"

The second wraith stepped forward, and in its haunting, glowing white eyes Tyrannica thought she caught a gleam of predatory excitement. She leaned closer, knowing that such emotions were rare for the wraiths and now chancing to hope for good news. As it turned out, she wasn't to be disappointed.

"_The traitor Spyro, Mistress,"_ the wraith hissed with venomous eagerness. _"We've found him."_

***.*.***

"Well young dragons, it was a pleasure to have met you and to be your guide for these last couple of days," Kaver announced with a smile of mixed pride and mild sadness on his muzzle. "I hope that we might get the chance to see you here again sometime in the near future."

"We hope so too," Spyro replied, a genuine smile gracing his own features as he looked up at the larger dragon. "Thank you again for everything. We really enjoyed our visit."

"I'm glad. Don't either of you hesitate to come visit whenever you have the chance."

"We won't," Cynder answered.

Kaver gave another smile, then took a couple of steps backward to let another dragon move forward into his place. This one was more elderly and of a green and brown colouring, but he wore a similar set of official robes.

"It has been an honour having you in our city, purple dragon," the Councillor in Chief of Sky Haven said in a deep, raspy voice. He bowed his head respectfully, causing Spyro to feel a small swell of embarrassment, but pride as well. "We wish you a safe journey on your return to Warfang. Please, give the Guardians our regards."

Spyro simply nodded his head, unable to find suitable words to answer with. Apparently satisfied nonetheless, the aged dragon reached around with a forepaw and pulled a carefully folded and sealed bundle of parchment from under his left wing. Then he held it out for Spyro to take, which the purple dragon did carefully.

"I have no doubt that you will deliver this treaty safely," the earth dragon said to him with a small smile. "We look forward to a long and prosperous union between our cities."

"So do we," Spyro answered with a firm nod. "You have my word that this will reach the Guardians without incident."

"We are most grateful. Now, I'm certain that you are both eager to be underway. We won't delay you any longer. Fly safely, young dragons."

"May the winds be in your favour," Kaver added.

Spyro and Cynder nodded their heads in acknowledgement. Then, once Spyro had stowed the crucial document safely in his bag the pair spread their wings and leapt off of the broad stone shelf, soaring up into the open sky. Turning to the south, the young duo beat their wings sharply and shot off in the direction of home.

The altitude proved to be an advantage in this situation, allowing the two dragons to conserve most of their energy as they simply rode the whistling wind currents between the stony peaks. They kept their still slightly sore wings locked for the most part, gliding ever so gradually closer to the ground thousands of feet below. The feeling of soaring freely with hardly any need to flap was incredibly liberating, and Spyro enjoyed this chance to let his thoughts drift.

His mind first went to the vote that had transpired the day before. On the one hand it had taken a great deal longer than Spyro had been anticipating, with discussions and debates lasting through the morning and into the early afternoon before the actual vote itself took place. Apparently the different parties involved had been seeking to reassure themselves that the union with Warfang was truly in the best interest of their city. Because of this much of it had been a tedious affair that had tried Spyro's patience, and he was just glad it was over.

However, on the other hand it had been a tremendous success in the end. The lengthy discussions had paid off for once it was all said and done the verdict had been unanimous in favour of the agreement. Warfang and Sky Haven were now officially bound in an indefinite contract of mutual support, which would include such things as trade and military protection as well as much, much more. It was a monumental step in the rebuilding of their kind as a nation after the war that had driven them to the brink of disaster.

This thought brought a smile to the purple dragon's muzzle, but it was one that was short-lived as another, more troubling thought wormed its way into his consciousness.

The night before last had been a difficult one for him, as had been frequent stretches of the day to follow. The encounter with the phoenix had clung to him like a curse. Immediately after leaving the bird's small cave he had been nearly distraught as terrible doubts and questions churned within his mind, and it had taken all in Cynder's power to get him settled down again afterward.

Eventually she had managed to reassure him that they were probably looking at the whole thing the wrong way and that it would be premature to try and form any conclusions on what the mural had meant when they had so little concrete information to go on. This had calmed Spyro's anxieties somewhat, but still the subject was one that had dominated his mind, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop seeing that broken plain and hearing Malefor's mocking words echoing in his mind.

'_Do you know what you are?'_ the phoenix's voice taunted.

Spyro sighed heavily, for as much as he wanted to say otherwise, he could no longer deny that the answer was no.

"Hey, Spyro!"

The purple dragon jolted at the unexpected call, and he snapped his gaze up toward his travelling companion to see that she was watching him closely.

"You're being awfully quiet," she remarked.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," he answered sheepishly before his eyes drifted away again. "Just thinking..."

Cynder's expression softened a touch as she realized what he meant. "I thought I told you to stop worrying about that picture. You can't let it erase all the things you do know about yourself, and what you've proven by your actions already."

"I know, I know. It's just...I've never been questioned like this before. I just don't know how to handle it."

"You'll figure it out," Cynder assured him, offering him a faint smile. "We'll get to the bottom of this eventually. Until then, though, there's no point worrying about something that you can't do anything about."

Spyro nodded, his doubts receding at his companion's words. "Thanks. I'm glad I have you to steer me through this sort of thing."

"Any time," Cynder grinned. Then, without warning, her expression took on a more devious air. "Now, I know just the thing to get those thoughts out of your head."

"Huh?"

Before Spyro had a chance to react Cynder had fired a gust of wind at him from between her jaws, and the purple dragon gave a yelp of surprise as he was sent into a tumbling roll to the left when the wind blast caught his wings. After a moment of struggling he managed to right himself, and when he looked back up at Cynder he saw her gazing back at him with a mischievous smirk stretched across her slender muzzle.

"Catch me if you can!" she called out gleefully, and with a single powerful flap of her magenta wings she had rocketed off ahead, leaving the stunned purple dragon in her wake.

"Hey!" he shouted after her. "Come on! Are these things ever going to start off fair?"

"I never fight fair if I can help it!" the midnight black dragoness retorted with a snicker, making a swooping pass by her target and letting loose another small burst of wind.

Spyro managed to avoid the playful attack with a quick bank to his right and Cynder pulled away sharply before he could retaliate, laughing brightly. Spyro couldn't keep the grin from forming on his face. With his own resigned chuckle and a shake of his head he pounded his wings sharply to regain altitude and sped off after the pursuit's instigator, his troubled thoughts slipping rapidly into the back of his mind. There he let them remain, all but forgotten in the heat of the chase, and he was happy to leave it that way.

Little did he know that after this day, such blissful denial would never again be possible.

***.*.***

Even after months of this new calling he bore, it was a sensation that he couldn't possibly describe.

It was a level of awareness that he could never had fathomed before becoming Chronicler. Sitting in the midst of his vast library, facing the giant hourglass in a semi-trance as a thick, ethereal cerulean mist of temporal magic swirled through the air around him, he could see and feel practically everything that was occurring in the world of dragons in that moment. What's more, he saw not only the present but also those events that had transpired any time within the past number of days as well, granting him a complete and total view of the happenings of the world for him to record.

The sights, sounds, and sensations came at him all at once in a tremendous rush, and yet every single element was completely distinguishable to him. The hatchling playing in a field of grass and wildflowers under the afternoon sun; the father scouring Warfang's market for supplies for his family's next meal; the Northern City guard that patrolled the skies above his secluded home. The scenes presented themselves to him simultaneously alongside countless others and yet they never mixed, never interfering with each other, and he had no difficulty following each and every one of them as they flitted past in his mind's eye.

While he could have easily observed all of the information flowing at him at once, Ignitus preferred to take the extra few minutes to focus in on select groups of individuals at a time, allowing him to record in more detail what was transpiring in their lives. On the towering shelves surrounding him various collections of books at a time would begin glowing with a pale blue-white aura as key episodes from the last few days of their lives were inscribed forever.

When he had first taken up this duty he had felt like he was violating the privacy of the dragons he was charged with overseeing, but those anxieties had quickly been put to rest. The process, as it turned out, was only a partially active one. He only saw what he wished to see, allowing himself to glimpse only harmless pieces of daily life unless his honed chronicling instincts told him of something of greater importance. Otherwise, the most important points of the dragons' life stories were captured in their books' pages regardless, without further need of his direction so long as he was focussed on that individual.

Finally, after an enormous span of time had passed, Ignitus eventually came to the last group of dragons that were left to document for his ever-growing library. Whenever he passed into this meditative he chose to save the stories of the dragons closest to him for last so that he might dedicate additional care and attention to them, thereby allowing him to share in a piece of their lives and feel, if only for a moment, like he was in the company of his old friends once more. First came a handful of surviving acquaintances that he had known from various walks of his life, from fellow students to officials with whom he had developed ties over the course of his duties as Guardian. These were dragons that he had seen only infrequently in the later years of his life, but they were friends that he had always held in his heart.

Next came the Guardians themselves, those dragons that had become all but brothers to him in the many, many years that they had spent serving and protecting the dragon race side by side. He also included Sirius now, his successor and the dragon that would have been his apprentice had not fate intervened. He felt a pang of regret that he wouldn't have the chance to share in what would have doubtlessly become an unbreakable bond as he guided the growing dragon's steps on the way to full-fledged Guardianship. However he took solace in the fact that he would still get to watch Sirius as he grew and matured in his new duties, and he knew that Terrador, Cyril and Volteer would be excellent mentors in his place.

Lastly he came to Cynder and the other close companions of Spyro's, and of course the young purple dragon himself. It always brought a warm smile to the blue-grey dragon's features when he turned his gaze toward this small band of youth, so full of vitality and optimism, and yet who had proven themselves against staggering odds during the darkest time of their race's history as well.

On top of all of this was the swell of pride he felt when his vision came to Spyro in particular. It never ceased to amaze him when he considered just how much the adolescent purple dragon had managed to accomplish in such a short life, and Ignitus would always remember with fondness the way the young one had brought hope back into his life when everything seemed at its bleakest. It was a special place in the elder dragon's heart that Spyro held, and as Ignitus watched the swirling images of his heroic young pupil joyfully chasing the dragoness he loved through the skies he let out a soft chuckle.

_You deserve this happiness, young dragon_, he thought contentedly. _Of all the dragons in our world, none deserve it more than you._

He had only just had this thought when, without any warning, a strange new sensation enshrouded the feeling of peace. Ignitus frowned in confusion, a twinge of unease seeping through him at these darker feelings, finding that this new aura of foreboding was greatly at odds with the joyful scene he was witnessing. Only a moment later though, comprehension dawned on him as the image began to change.

The disturbance began taking form as a new vision appeared before his mind's eye, blurred and jumbled, with sights and sounds layering over each other indiscriminately in often contradictory fashions. Ignitus quickly understood the reason: the events he was seeing were not yet set in time and history. Rather, this was a vision from the future with multiple outcomes still possible, and from the feeling of it what he was seeing was very soon to come.

Violent flashes and sounds assaulted his senses, and Ignitus winced as he struggled to make sense of the chaos that hammered against his consciousness. It was a futile effort in the end, though, whatever event he was foreseeing too hectic for him to make out. Unable to sort out the confused images and sensations in his mind, Ignitus drew back with his gaze and instead focussed on the underlying feelings that the vision held, which were more or less constant: surprise, urgency, confusion, anger, but most of all fear.

A pit of worry began to grow in the Chronicler's gut, for these were feelings with which he was well acquainted from his time fighting in the war. A few short moments later he pulled his mind free from his trance and opened his eyes, the misty blue glow fading from the ancient chamber and retreating into the hourglass. The only thing that remained gleaming with bright insistence was a single purple book tucked away on the shelves. Without delay Ignitus beckoned forcefully toward it with a wing and in response the tome flew off of the shelf and sailed toward him. It had barely come to a floating stop before he waved a paw and caused the pages to flutter past at a dizzying pace. Soon the still-glowing pages of the entry that had just been inscribed were open before him, casting his face and chest in a pale blue light.

No sooner had his eyes fallen upon the freshly-detailed image and runes than did a rush of urgency and alarm explode through his being. Without even bothering to return Spyro's book to its place he spun around and dashed out of the cold library, the book falling to the ground behind him with a dull clutter. He rushed through the passages of his secluded dwelling faster than he had moved in years, his inner senses guiding him toward the only other spark of life on the isle. A minute later he slid to a halt at the entrance to one of the ancient temple's inner trial chambers, where a young purple dragon was just then preparing for yet another bout of training.

"I thought we agreed that you weren't going to interrupt me when..." Nexus began with a scowl, but when he turned around and saw the look in the elder dragon's eyes he trailed off. A flash of mixed unease and anticipation appeared within his red-violet eyes at Ignitus's uncharacteristic demeanour.

"It's happening," Ignitus said quickly. "Now. You must prepare yourself to depart as quickly as possible. We have no time to lose."

"Way ahead of you," Nexus replied with an air of hard focus entering his bearing. He turned away from the Chronicler and opened a swirling portal of convexity with a swipe of his paw. As the young dragon stepped toward the vortex Ignitus saw his muscles bunching under his scales in preparation for long-awaited action, and it only dawned on him then how real this sudden turn of events was.

"I will help to guide you to his location, but I am afraid that I will only be able to direct you into his general area."

"Get me close and I can handle the rest myself," Nexus said impatiently.

Ignitus gave a quick nod, then closed his eyes and began focussing on Spyro as strongly as he could. After this he felt for the disruption in space and time that was Nexus's portal, and when he found it, in the same manner as he had done to first bring Nexus to the White Isle, he shunted the end toward where he felt Spyro's presence to be. Nexus seemed to sense this happening, for before Ignitus could even open his eyes the purple dragon had leapt into the portal and disappeared, the swirling opening collapsing in his wake with an echoing crash. A mere instant later utter silence had descended upon the temple once again.

"May the Ancestors watch out for you, young dragon," Ignitus sighed. "You and your brother both..."

***.*.***

"Hey, Spyro."

Spyro turned his head back at the sudden call from his black-scaled companion, his expression quizzical. Cynder met his inquiring gaze with one of great weariness, but also faint hope.

"What do you think?" she asked him. "Good place to stop for the night?"

She pointed a talon toward the ground below them, and Spyro followed with his gaze to see that she was pointing to a clearing in the forest at least a hundred metres across and not too far ahead of them. He hadn't seen it before because of the growing darkness as the sun sank below the horizon, and for that same reason he was having a hard time getting a good look at it from this distance.

"Let's check it out," he answered finally, and with a flap of his heavy wings he angled toward the site and accelerated. Only a moment later he and the black dragoness were circling tightly a few dozen metres above the clearing, surveying the terrain below.

"So?" Cynder asked after a short silence had passed between them. "Think it will work?"

Spyro didn't miss the hopeful undertone hidden in her voice, and he gave a small grin at the corner of his mouth before turning his gaze back down toward the clearing, thoughtful.

It wasn't ideal, he decided quickly. While it was sheltered enough thanks to the tall trees surrounding it on all sides and the small but steep slope bordering it to the north, the trees meant that it would be very easy for any manner of unfriendly creature to sneak up on them or surround them. He didn't know what kind of threats to expect in this area either since it was one he wasn't very familiar with—they were still a couple of hours' flight north of the swamp, making this place one that he had only ever flown over infrequently. It was risky, and it caused a twinge of uneasiness within him.

He knew that Cynder was just as aware of the risks as he was—when wasn't she?—but that didn't seem to matter to her in that moment. Spyro could see the weariness practically dragging her out of the sky, and it was clear that the only thing she cared about then was to just rest _somewhere_.

_Oh, forget it,_ Spyro thought in surrender. _I don't care anymore. I just want to sleep!_

He turned his purple eyes up to meet Cynder's again, and she fell into an expectant hush.

"Yeah, fine, this looks good," he relented at length. "We'll—"

He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence, for Cynder was already diving eagerly for the ground by that point. With another tired grin Spyro followed, soon touching down by her side atop the crest of a small rocky outcrop in the clearing's centre. Despite the rocks the ground there was still grassy enough to be soft and comfortable, and Spyro had no doubt he would sleep soundly as soon as he curled up in it.

As he folded his aching wings against his flanks Spyro swept their surroundings with his gaze. While he still had reservations about stopping somewhere so vulnerable, he was at least slightly reassured when he saw that the outcropping gave them a respectable vantage point over the rest of the clearing. The position would be defendable enough if the worst were to come to pass.

_Stop thinking like that,_ he chided himself. _The realms have been at peace for months. There shouldn't be any dangers_.

Shaking his head and trying to suppress his paranoia, which he dismissed as remnants from the incident two nights before, Spyro turned around again to face Cynder who was sitting heavily back on her haunches with her magenta wings sagging toward the ground, a look of exhaustion written on her face. She offered a wry smirk when she saw him eying her condition.

"You don't look any better."

Spyro gave a quiet chuckle. "Do you think you can take care of getting a fire going while I try and find us something to eat?"

"I don't know," Cynder answered with a thoughtful look about her expression. "Those sticks can be tricky."

Spyro snorted and rolled his eyes with amusement. "I'm sure you can handle them."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned about and set off for the tree line after shrugging off his travel bag and depositing it safely in a hollow under an edge of rock. The sound of Cynder's chuckling followed after him on the cool night air as he then padded away.

As he pushed into the woods Spyro knew that it would have perhaps made more sense for him to work on the fire and have Cynder do the hunting since he had his fire breath and she was the more proficient out of the two of them at hunting in the dark—and better suited for it with her black scales as well. However, despite the logic behind it he still would have found suggesting such a thing to be distasteful. She was exhausted from the past several days' flying, and so asking her to perform the more physically demanding task would have felt wrong.

Not that he was any less exhausted.

To prevent his thoughts from turning to how much farther they still had to go to reach Warfang—an unpleasant notion bordering on depressing with his wings aching the way they were—Spyro instead occupied his mind by imagining how Cynder would accomplish starting a fire without fire breath while he searched the woods for a meal. Shadow fire would seem to be the obvious answer, except that it smothered as well as burned which was not ideal for fire-starting. But maybe if she combined it with some of her wind to provide air...

He gave an unconcerned shrug. Cynder was nothing if not resourceful. She would figure something out. She certainly wasn't going to allow herself to suffer the humiliation of having him rescue her and light the fire upon his return.

Grinning from the thought, Spyro then devoted his attention to the task at hand. Where would the most likely place to find prey be?

A soft breeze rustled the leafy canopy above his head and carried with it an enticing scent that quickly captured the purple dragon's attention. His head whirled upwind, and immediately his predatory instincts kicked in. He began salivating even as he crouched lower to the ground and started creeping stealthily through the underbrush.

_That's it, dinner,_ he thought hungrily. _Come to me._

A few short minutes later he had tracked the scent to its source: a moderately-sized deer poking about amongst the bushes at the foot of a broad tree, probably searching for a few final morsels before retiring for the night. Spyro thanked his good fortune for finding it before it was too late. Struggling to contain his hungry excitement, he stalked gradually closer to his unsuspecting victim, the trees and growing darkness rendering him all but invisible.

What happened next was something that took Spyro several confused moments to make sense of. At the exact instant that he leapt forward to catch the deer with his talons his ears were suddenly assaulted by a piercing, blood-curdling shrieking sound. The deer bolted immediately and the shrill pounding noise startled Spyro so badly that he missed it by several feet and instead crashed headlong into the tree behind it. Dazedly he staggered back to his feet, groaning and clutching at his forehead with a paw. He grimaced as he tried to make the ringing in his ears stop.

_Yep. Cynder should have done the hunting,_ he grumbled inwardly as he faintly heard the deer racing through the underbrush and into the distance, disappearing into the night. His stomach rumbled in protest, causing him to scowl.

Just then the shrieking sound came again, jolting Spyro out of his brooding thoughts, and this time he was able to recognize what it was. As soon as he did he went rigid, his eyes widening in surprise and worry.

A fear scream.

_Cynder!_

His heart racing inside his chest, Spyro spun sharply about and leapt into the air as hard as his legs could manage, beating his wings viciously downward and exploding through the forest canopy into the open night sky. Ignoring the scratches that the gripping branches left on his scales, the purple dragon streaked low over the treetops back toward the clearing. He figured that if Cynder needed to use her fear element it was either to warn him of danger or she was in danger herself. Either way he had to get back to her as quickly as possible.

_I knew it!_ he raged inwardly. _I knew this would happen! Whenever things are going good, something else has to go wrong!_

At last the clearing appeared before him, scarcely visible on that moonless night. Without wasting a second Spyro swooped down over it before looping around to come in to land by Cynder's side. As soon as his paws hit the ground he dropped into a battle stance, his eyes scanning for threats.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"What do you think happened?" Cynder snapped in reply, and Spyro glanced over at her only for his breath to catch when he saw a bleeding cut on the side of her head where something had apparently struck her by surprise. "We're under attack!"

"From what? Grublins?"

"I have no idea. Look for yourself!"

She jerked her head forward to point out their foes to him, and Spyro followed with his eyes. At first he saw nothing, and in confusion he was just about to ask what she was talking about when a glint of white caught his gaze. Squinting, Spyro realized with a jolt that it was a pair of glowing eyes.

No, not one pair, he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut.

Many.

In the darkness it was impossible to see the threat clearly. Quickly Spyro's gaze locked onto the small pile of dried branches that Cynder must have been working on when she was jumped. He immediately spat a hail of glowing embers over the wood, and with a flash and a dull _whoosh_ they caught, bathing the area around them in a flickering orange glow. Now that they had enough light to fight by Spyro returned his gaze to where he had seen the eyes, only to falter with a thrill of fear running through him.

The very darkness of the night seemed to have solidified around the empty, pupil-less eyes he had seen before, for even in the light of the fire the bodies of their foes seemed to be veiled in shadow, difficult to see clearly. Spyro realized that he was looking at some sort of creature roughly the same height as an ape but appearing unlike anything he had ever seen before.

Their bodies looked almost skeletal, thin as bone in some places while appearing less than solid in others, as if their black flesh was barely more than an empty shell. It looked almost as if they were made from the shadows themselves, except for their glaring white eyes that pierced right through Spyro's soul when they looked at him.

Just then one of the nearest creatures spoke in a voice that sounded like a dozen different whispers layered on top of each other. That haunting voice easily set Spyro's scales on edge and sent a tremendous chill through his being.

"_Get the traitor,"_ it ordered its companions. _"Dispose of the other."_

They moved faster than Spyro thought was possible, as though they had no mass to slow them down. Almost before he could blink he found himself swarmed by a half dozen of the shadowy figures, trying to shake them off as they clawed at him with crooked, spindly fingers. They stubbornly refused to loosen their grip however, and Spyro felt panic grip his chest when he felt himself beginning to get dragged toward the ground.

A blast of wind suddenly washed over him, and the creatures shrieked in surprise as they were torn off of the purple dragon by the savage gust. Now freed, Spyro turned a grateful gaze toward Cynder and managed to meet her emerald eyes for a second before she spun away to face another opponent.

Shaking off the fearful shivers running through his body, Spyro turned to face another pair of the creatures that had the two dragons surrounded on all sides. His purple eyes narrowed into a glare to match those of the spectral monsters.

In eerie unison, the creatures' right arms became enshrouded in a swirling cloud of black shadows. A second later the shadows receded, revealing that the monsters' arms had become encased from the elbow down in jagged spikes with plenty of viciously sharp points along their lengths. Spyro tried not to let his surprise and apprehension register in his expression, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded.

As one his foes lunged forward, and Spyro was forced to dodge to the side as the one on his right swiped with its spiked weapon at him. His other opponent tried to catch him out of position with its spike but he managed to block with a wing before retaliating with a kick from his forepaw strong enough to send the creature spinning away. Then he rocked his horns up and into the chest of the first attacker, knocking it back through the air.

Three more shadow creatures jumped at him from behind, but Spyro spun and met them with a blazing wall of fire from his jaws. When they fell back with pained cries another pair immediately surged forward to take their place. Spyro responded by blasting one away with an earth missile and jabbing his talons deep into the chest of the other. The creature gave a strangled gasp before Spyro pushed it down to the rocky earth, dead. Now rid of those two foes, Spyro turned to face the next—only to watch as it was bowled over by one of its companions, which had been knocked back by a glob of Cynder's poison splattering across its chest.

There was a momentary lull as the creatures paused to regroup, and in this pause Spyro hastily backed up until he was standing right by Cynder's side, looking around and only realizing then just how many enemies there truly were surrounding them.

Fighting past the sickening fall of his stomach, Spyro recalled a technique that Cyril had taught him not too long ago. Focussing quickly, he fashioned a set of armoured plates over his chest, shoulders and back out of ice, coating them with small jagged spikes to help keep attackers at bay. He also formed a light helm out of ice, also with a line of spikes along the top and the jaw line, and he covered his tail spade as well, turning it into a vicious blade. The blade's lethal cutting edge was jagged and could compete with Cynder's natural metallic blade in sharpness. It was a formidable weapon that Cyril had made him train extensively to learn how to use as if it were a natural extension of his body.

It had been difficult, but he had learned well.

All together the pieces of armour weren't heavy enough to slow him down, which also meant that they wouldn't offer a great deal of protection, but they still might be enough to save him from a fatal blow if he were caught in a vulnerable position.

The creatures fell upon them then with renewed ferocity, coming at them from all directions at once. Spyro's world contracted to just a few feet in all directions, a tight circle enclosing him in chaos. He was forced to resort to all of his elements to keep the relentless assault at bay, making heavy use of his fire breath and his newly bladed tail especially.

One shadow creature jumped at him from the left, only to be sent flying back by a fire bomb. Another lunged at him from the right and swung its spike down hard, but Spyro managed to dodge it by barely a centimetre. Then, when the spiked weapon hit the ground, Spyro quickly moved to pin it beneath a forepaw.

Unfortunately for him his opponent was just as quick as he was, and before he could put enough pressure on the weapon to trap it his enemy yanked it hard backward. Spyro snarled in pain and recoiled as he felt the weapon's spikes tearing through the pad of his paw, opening a series of small, stinging cuts that flared with pain whenever he stepped on it.

Seeing him momentarily vulnerable, a third foe lunged at him straight on, stabbing the pointed tip of its spike toward his eye—whether to blind him or kill him was unclear. Spyro jerked back out of reflex and barely avoided losing his eye to the jagged spike, but the tip still cut into his cheek beneath the edge of his frozen helm. Letting loose another growl of pain and anger, Spyro paid back the favour by removing the creature's arm with a single hard swing of his bladed tail. The maimed creature staggered back clutching at the stump of its limb—which didn't bleed, Spyro noticed with a touch of surprise—and the purple dragon spun around in search of a new opponent. His blood boiled with the heat of battle, as well as a simmering anger at allowing himself to be injured so quickly.

Before he could even locate his next target after turning, though, Spyro felt a heavy impact in his chest and he looked down to see one of the shadow figures' weapons embedded in his icy armour. He could feel the tip digging through his chest scales, but only just. Feeling mildly stunned, Spyro looked up at his attacker only to falter in confusion when he saw the three deep claw marks in the centre of its chest.

_What?_ he thought dazedly. _But...didn't I kill that one before...?_

Seeing the purple dragon's confused stare, the shadow creature smirked wickedly. Then, even as Spyro stood watching, writhing shadow spilled out of the three deep wounds before converging upon them, covering them completely. When the shadows parted the creature's chest was left completely undamaged without so much as a scar left behind.

For a second Spyro was too stunned to move, but then he forcibly shook off his surprise, knocked the unknown creature's weapon out of his armour and lashed out with his talons, cutting three gashes across his foe's chest that were even deeper than before.

Almost immediately the wounds erupted with shadow before sealing shut again.

Now starting to feel desperate and more than a little scared, Spyro spun around and brought the ice blade on his tail down on his foe. The blade separated the creature's torso from its hips and the two halves dropped to the ground. To his horror, the figure simply began pushing itself up with its arms, a vile grin still twisting its expression. Then the severed legs and lower body dissolved into a cloud of shadow that shot over to join with the rest of the creature's body, reforming.

Struggling to keep his mounting fear from overwhelming him, Spyro began backing away as the strange enemies closed in on him, their various wounds closing over as they stalked ever closer no matter how severe they were.

"Uh, Spyro?" Cynder asked just then with a shaky note in her voice. "Are you seeing the same thing I am?"

"They...they won't die," he replied numbly. "How are we supposed to beat them?"

Cynder had no reply to give.

_What are these things?_ Spyro wondered fearfully as he racked his brain for a solution to their increasingly dire predicament. _It's like something out of a nightmare! How do we kill them?_

"Spyro, look out!"

Jolted from his thoughts by the cry, Spyro whipped his head around in confusion just in time to see one of the dark creatures swinging its hardened spike arm straight for him. Before he could even utter a startled yelp the blow landed with terrible force on his left flank.

The savage impact was strong enough to shatter his icy chest plate and lifted him up into the air with a winded gasp. A second later he hit the ground hard on his side, rolling a few feet on the rough earth. As he came to rest in a heap his head smacked against an exposed rock, cracking his ice helm into pieces and sending a dull lance of pain through his skull. For a moment he lay there, groaning dazedly.

"Spyro!" Cynder cried, her voice sounding distant and fuzzy to him. Then she gave a startled grunt of pain. "Hey! Get off of me!"

Numbly Spyro lifted his head and blinked repeatedly to make his vision fall into focus. When it did he saw Cynder struggling to free herself from the grips of four of their attackers. She managed to strike at two of them, throwing them off, but more joined in to try and pin her down.

Anger flared within him, and growling from the effort Spyro staggered to his feet before lurching toward the dragoness and her assailants, his charge becoming steadier with each stride he took.

"Let go of her!" he roared furiously, gathering up his power in preparation to perform a Comet Dash that would hopefully scatter the unknown creatures long enough for him to help his companion.

He didn't get the chance. When he was still a few metres away the figures swung Cynder around before hurling her through the air straight at him. Spyro managed to utter a surprised shout before it was cut short by the dragoness slamming into his chest. The pair was sent tumbling head over tails before finally coming to a stop in a tangled, bruised heap and Spyro gave a winded grunt as the bulk of Cynder's weight came down on top of him, thinking absently that it was a good thing she wasn't any heavier.

Groaning from the pain filling his body, Spyro managed to lift his head to see the crowd of their attackers stalking toward them with looks of deadly intent shining in their glowing white eyes. Weakly the two dragons began struggling to rise to their feet, but it didn't seem like they were going to be able to untangle themselves before it was too late.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting _CRACK_ shattered the night air, and everyone in the clearing whipped their heads up to see what looked like some sort of vortex of swirling purple energy collapsing in on its centre. Spyro faltered when he easily recognized the sight, and he exchanged a look of mixed shock and confusion with Cynder.

There was a flash of dark violet, and an instant later a massive explosion of convexity suddenly erupted in the middle of the crowd of hostile creatures. Another orb of crackling energy fell into their ranks, followed promptly by a third, and two more raging explosions flared to life. The shadowy creatures were sent into complete disarray from the blasts, their numbers instantly reduced by almost half.

In the confusion, a new figure streaked down from above and struck the ground hard. A shockwave of convexity exploded out from the point of impact and knocked the dazed creatures back from the two downed dragons.

When the dust and residual convexity energy cleared Spyro was able to instantly recognize the dragon standing before him, with his dark purple scales, his bronze chest and horns, his maroon wing membranes and bronze markings across his body. Utter shock flooded through him, and he found that all he could do was stare in disbelief and confusion as their rescuer turned his head back toward them and flashed a broad predatory grin across his muzzle, his red-tinged violet eyes glinting with dangerous excitement.

"Need help, brother?" Nexus asked mockingly.

He didn't wait for a reply before leaping into the fray with startling eagerness. Spyro could only watch in shock as Nexus barrelled into the midst of the shadow creatures, convexity swirling around his body. A broad beam of the dark energy lanced out across the clearing, obliterating a cluster of their enemies instantly.

Without missing a stride Nexus immediately whirled around in a tight circle, thin blades of ice materializing in the air around him. The heads and bodies of at least three more foes parted ways before dissolving into shadow and vanishing. A couple of the creatures tried to catch Nexus from behind, but an intense shockwave of electricity exploded out from his body and vaporized them.

The remainder of the battle was swift and brutal, Nexus dispatching his foes with terrible efficiency. Elemental magic filled the air with a raging torrent of destruction, sweeping up the purple dragon's victims in its lethal grasp. Spyro found that he could do nothing more than watch in stunned silence as, one by one, the shadow beings were annihilated by his counterpart's power.

Finally the last of the unidentified enemies vanished in a puff of shadow as a point-blank blast of earth energy pounded its body into oblivion. Merciful silence descended over the land, broken only by the soft panting coming from Nexus. It appeared that the sheer amount of power he had used to defeat what were unusually stubborn foes had left him more drained than Spyro had seen before, despite the brevity of the battle. Still, his muzzle bore that ever-present grin.

The other purple dragon straightened, rolling his shoulders to release the tension in his body. Then he gave a short, breathless laugh.

"Well, that was fun."

For a moment Spyro was too stunned to do anything more than stare, but when it finally clicked who it was he was looking at his instincts snapped him into the defensive. He jumped to his feet and squared himself to the other purple dragon, his body rigid and ready for battle. Cynder reacted just as quickly, but instead of becoming defensive she seized the initiative and slammed into Nexus with a fierce snarl. Nexus couldn't block her sudden attack in time and was knocked backward into a bulge of the stone outcropping, grunting as his back smashed into the hard rock. He then went rigid when Cynder's tail blade appeared at his throat.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she growled, her eyes narrowed into a murderous glare.

"That's a hell of a way to greet the dragon that just saved your lives," Nexus retorted bitterly. "For the second time, I might add."

Cynder gave a vicious snarl, but Nexus appeared unfazed.

"We thought you had died at the Well of Souls," Spyro said suspiciously as he stepped up behind Cynder, ready to support her if Nexus tried anything. His tail, which still bore the dangerous blade of ice, swished behind him.

Nexus gave a snort of laughter. "Worried about me after the collapse, were you?"

"More like relieved," Cynder growled.

Nexus gave a small grunt, feigning disappointment.

"How did you survive?" Spyro questioned.

"Dumb luck, mostly," Nexus replied. "But I don't think now's the right time for the whole story."

"Why are you here?" Cynder then asked.

"Believe it or not, to help."

Cynder gave a sharp snort, and Spyro felt a similar swell of disbelief and suspicion.

"Why should we believe that?" Cynder challenged. "After all the things you've done, what reason could you possibly give to convince us that you aren't here to harm us again?"

"Notice how I'm not fighting back?" Nexus retorted, gesturing with a claw at the blade against his throat that kept him pinned upright against the rocks. "You think this would really stop me if I wanted to fight you two?"

Cynder gave another low growl, but she had no response to this and neither did Spyro. They exchanged a hard glance, both of them wary of a trick, but it seemed that neither of them could come up with anything to counter this argument. It made no sense, but Spyro could see no other reasoning to his compliance.

Slowly and with obvious reluctance, Cynder lowered her tail and took a step back from the captive purple dragon, though she remained ready to pounce at an instant's notice. As Nexus dropped back to all fours Spyro stepped up into the space that Cynder had vacated, staring hard into his counterpart's eyes.

"So, why do you want to help us?" he asked, his tone heavy with suspicion.

"Self preservation," the other purple dragon answered, matching Spyro's intense gaze. "I doubt you've forgotten that we share a very powerful enemy. If I want to stand any chance of surviving against him I need your help, and for that I kind of need you alive, so here I am."

Spyro said nothing for a long moment, his expression twisting into a tense frown. All of his instincts urged him to run, to duck into Dragon Time, grab Cynder and flee before Nexus could strike. There was no way that he could trust this dragon's words after the tortures that he had endured because of him.

And yet, he could see no deception in the other dragon's eyes. This alone meant nothing of course for Nexus had proven beyond doubt his proficiency for lying and misleading others, but then Spyro's mind flashed back to the Well of Souls where Nexus had refused the order to kill him and instead had fought against his master by Spyro's side...

He suppressed a growl of frustration, having no idea what to think. Nexus seemed to pick up on this easily.

"What's the matter, _brother_?" he said with a hint of a sneer at the corner of his muzzle, and Spyro stiffened as he was reminded of the relation he bore to this dragon. "Afraid I'm just trying to trick you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Spyro answered flatly.

Nexus gave a frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes. "Well, I guess I can't really blame you for that. Fine. If you really can't believe me then I'll just leave, and when the next wave of wraiths comes for you then you can see how well you do against them on your own. After all, you had this all under control before I showed up, right?"

Spyro scowled at the mocking edge in Nexus's tone, and beside him Cynder let out a threatening growl, but again he could come up with no retort. He didn't delude himself into thinking that the band of shadowy creatures that they had just fought would be the last that they would see, and their next encounter with them was something he dreaded. He and Cynder had been utterly helpless to overpower them, but Nexus had been able to do so in a matter of moments.

"I have information that you need if you're going to survive," Nexus told him. "Not just about the wraiths, but about Ragnor too. Any answers you want, I can give them to you."

Spyro faltered, his counterpart's words striking a chord within him.

_Answers..._he thought, his mind wandering back to the mural below Sky Haven.

Again suspicion rose within his mind, but this time his curiosity made the offer much harder to simply dismiss. He was vaguely aware of Cynder glancing at him with an anxious look on her features, as though she was afraid that Nexus had just hooked him into falling for a trap. The possibility had obviously occurred to Spyro as well, but the questions that had been burning in his mind clamored for him to proceed. He sighed, turning his gaze toward her.

"We do need more information if we're going to have to fight those things again," he told her.

"Is any information he'll give us worth the risk, though?" Cynder argued, glaring at Nexus with pure hatred in her emerald eyes. "This can easily be a plot for us to take him into Warfang so that he can cripple us from the inside."

"And what would that gain me?" Nexus countered before turning back to Spyro. "I'm already marked for death, just like you are. Turning the only potential ally I have against me now would be suicide, and I have no interest in that."

"All we have is your word on that," the black dragoness growled at him. "And I'm not too eager to believe it."

"Well, the way I see it you don't really have a choice. I mean what are you options? You either risk believing me and get the information about the wraiths that you need to make it through their next attack alive, or you refuse my offer in which case I'm out of here and you'll be on your own to fight the nightmare that's going to come down on you. I'll give you a hint: Option two guarantees that none of us will live for long."

"Again, we only have your word."

"You _were_ here for that fight just now, right? That gash on your head isn't fake? Because you sound like you didn't really see what those wraiths are capable of."

"They caught us by surprise. Next time we'll be ready."

"Ha! You think so? You think you'll get any more warning of their next attack than you got on this one?"

"We'll just have to take our chances, because I can tell you right now that there's no way we'll ever agree to take you into Warfang!"

"Enough!" Spyro snapped as his patience boiled over, causing Cynder and even Nexus to jolt and whip their gazes around toward him. He paid their reactions no mind, however, fixing his hard gaze on Nexus.

"Here's the problem," he began grimly. "I won't deny that any information you might give us would be a huge help, because the fact is that we have no idea what we're up against."

Cynder began to protest, a look of shock on her face, but Spyro cut her off with a raised paw and she had to settle for casting him a disapproving glare. Nexus remained impassive.

"But Cynder's right," Spyro continued. "As it is, there's no way that we can trust what you're saying. We have no guarantee that you won't attack as soon as you're inside of the city."

"Then it looks like we're stuck," Nexus grunted, "because I doubt there's anything I can say that will make you believe me. The only way out of this is if you take the chance to trust me yourselves."

"And you've done _such_ a good job of proving yourself trustworthy so far," Cynder sneered.

"Nothing I can do about that," Nexus shrugged before his expression became much more severe. "But here's one thing I can promise you that I'm sure you can believe: I don't want to die. And right now, the only chance I have of avoiding that is to work together with you. My survival depends _entirely_ on your help, just as much as your survival depends on mine, so I can tell you right now that there is zero risk of me tricking you because that would be an instant death sentence for me. Now that I've revealed myself and Ragnor will be able to find me, I only have a matter of time before he takes me out unless I can get you on my side _right now_."

Spyro hesitated, for he had detected an undertone of desperation hidden behind Nexus's words and in his intense red-tinged eyes at those last words. He may not have been an expert on reading the emotions of others, but he would have sworn that this hidden feeling wasn't an act. Even Cynder, who had years of experience detecting and eliciting fear from others, seemed to notice this shift and was given pause by it.

"Tell me, do you really think this silence from Ragnor means that he's given up?" Nexus continued fervently. "Not a chance! I guarantee you that he's just waiting for the right moment to make his move. This wraith attack was just a prelude. The real hit is coming, and unless we help each other out we don't have any hope of making it through alive. That's why I _need_ you to believe me now. I will tell you everything I know, I will fight on your side when the next attack comes, and I will continue to do so until we get to the end of this thing, whatever that is. I just need you to give me the benefit of the doubt here."

Spyro was again silent, grappling with the doubts and suspicions that were swirling in his mind. Every fibre of his being feared that this was all just some elaborate scheme to make him lower his guard, but at the same time he knew that what Nexus said was true. Without help, he would be powerless to stop Ragnor from exacting whatever plans he had for him. He had tried to fool himself into thinking otherwise over the past couple of months, but inside he had known all along that Ragnor would one day rear his head again. The only questions had been when, and what form his wrath would take.

The 'wraiths', as Nexus had called them, had just answered both of those questions, and there was no doubt in Spyro's mind that they were only the beginning. More would come, and they would fight more fiercely than the ones before them. A very real and heavy fear gripped him at the thought of an army of those monsters bearing down on him, as well as anything and anyone else in their way.

"It's your choice, brother," Nexus said, his expression tense as he stared into the other purple dragon's eyes. "What will it be?"

"Spyro," Cynder said insistently, her edgy gaze flitting between him and Nexus. "We can't listen to him. Not after what he's done."

Spyro didn't reply. In his mind a difficult truth was slowly dawning on him: Their paws were forced in this mess. Nexus had the information that they desperately needed if they were going to have any chance in fighting this new threat. Their only option, then, was to take the risk of following his demand and letting him accompany them, for even if this was a trick the fact remained that without his promised help they were defenceless. If it was indeed a ploy to attack them from the inside then they at least were alerted to the threat he posed and knew what they were up against. If it wasn't then Nexus's help would prove to be invaluable, however distasteful the idea of him being in the city was.

With a heavy, defeated sigh, Spyro hung his head and brought his forepaw up to his brow to massage it. Then, at length, he looked up and met Nexus's waiting gaze.

"You can come with us," he groaned.

"Spyro, you can't be serious!" Cynder exclaimed.

"We have to chance it. We need to know what we're fighting."

"And if it's a trap?" the black dragoness demanded angrily.

"Then we do everything we can to bring him down. He has no army to back him up this time, and he'll be cornered in the middle of Warfang. It won't be easy, but we'll stand the best chance against him that we have so far."

"I don't like this, Spyro."

"Neither do I," Spyro sighed, his eyes narrowing into a glare focussed at Nexus as his past torments flashed in his mind again. "Not at all. But we have no choice."

"Then let's get moving," Nexus cut in, a slight look of relief briefly crossing his expression before turning to one of grim seriousness. "I don't know how long we have before another wave of wraiths shows up, so we need to get out of here."

"What, are you expecting us to fly all the way back to Warfang right now in the condition we're in?" Cynder snapped, and Spyro's aching wings burned at the unwelcome thought.

"Of course not," Nexus snorted. Then he turned away from the pair and swiped a forepaw in front of him, and a violet flash and sharp bang signalled the formation of a new portal of convexity. Cynder stared at the vortex in disbelief.

"You have _got_ to be joking!" she exclaimed. "If you think that we're going to willingly follow you through _that_, then—"

"Do you have any better ideas?" Nexus interrupted, an irritated scowl covering his muzzle.

Cynder had no reply, but she voiced her displeasure with another dangerous growl, her lip curling up to reveal her fangs. Spyro didn't like the idea any more than she did, but he once again resigned himself reluctantly to the fact that they had no other options. As much as he hated to admit it, Nexus had control of the situation.

"Give us a minute," he grunted.

He turned around before Nexus could protest, making certain to keep his eye on the other purple dragon in case he tried to make a move while Spyro's back was turned. He didn't though, and soon Spyro had reached the spot where he had deposited his bag. He opened it quickly and withdrew the meager collection of spirit gem fragments he had brought along for an emergency. There were only three small red pieces and barely any more of green, but it would have to do for the time being.

"Here," he said, passing the largest piece of red gem and a few of the green pieces to Cynder. The black dragoness took them without a word, her fierce gaze never leaving Nexus as she absorbed the energy they contained inside and the gash on her head closed over, a small amount of her elemental stamina returning. Spyro likewise absorbed the energy from the remaining pieces of gem after doing his best to clean the dirt out of the wound on his paw. Having more injuries than Cynder did due to being the main focus of the attack, the pieces of red crystal weren't enough to completely heal him, but it was enough to close the wound on his paw and stop the bleeding from the cuts on his chest and under his eye at least. Then, once he had looped his bag over his right wing, he stepped back up to Nexus.

"You go first," he told the other purple dragon. "Cynder and I will follow you on either side to keep an eye on you, and we'll be ready in case you try anything."

"Noted," Nexus grunted in reply. "Let's go then."

He turned to face the portal, and with wordless steps Spyro and Cynder moved up to flank him, both of them watching the dragon between them with unwavering alertness. Cynder's burning glare looked as though it would be enough to melt through Nexus's scales, while Spyro's still-bladed tail twitched behind him. Whatever happened next, he refused to be taken by surprise.

Without a word Nexus stepped slowly forward into the portal, and after quelling his nerves Spyro followed directly behind him, Cynder with him every step of the way. Almost immediately after reaching the threshold of the portal Spyro felt a tremendous lurch and pull on his body, and before he knew it he had been swallowed by the disorienting tunnel of energy. A second later a much greater lurch shook him violently, and he staggered as his paws hit hard cobblestones. He forced himself to regain his bearings within instants, however, his eyes immediately finding Nexus still standing in front of him, then sweeping over their surroundings. What he found was that the three of them were standing in the middle of Warfang's northern courtyard, just within the city's towering main gates.

_Well, that's _one_ potential trick put to rest,_ he thought, fighting past the disorientation of having travelled such a massive distance in an instant.

Surprised shouting and the scrambling of various paws on stone alerted Spyro to the fact that their arrival hadn't gone unnoticed, and he looked up to see that a dozen guards that had been stationed on the wall above them were rushing down steep stairways or swooping through the air to surround them in the darkened courtyard. Dragons in full armour and moles wielding swords and bows had formed a ring around them in only moments, their fierce gazes locked on Nexus and their muscles bunching in preparation to attack.

"Wait!" Spyro called out before they could get the chance, and the guards all faltered when they finally seemed to clue in to his and Cynder's presence beside the enemy of their city. "He's here with us!"

Looks of confusion and disbelief crossed the guards' expressions, but quickly they were once again replaced by looks of alertness and they all trained their sights on the other purple dragon again. In response Nexus slowly sat back on his haunches and lifted his forepaws up in a posture of surrender.

"We need to speak with the Guardians immediately," Spyro said to the dragons and moles. "Can you escort us to the Temple?"

There was a long pause as the guards tried to wrap their minds around this turn of events and decide how they should react, but eventually a dragon with muted yellow scales, bronze armour and navy blue horns and wing membranes stepped forward and squared himself to the newcomers, facing Spyro but glancing regularly toward Nexus with a hard glare.

"Isn't this the same dragon that attacked the city and impersonated you not so long ago?" the guard asked suspiciously. "What reason could there possibly be for him to be 'with' you now, then?"

Spyro thought that the guard was of the impression that Nexus was somehow forcing him and Cynder into compliance as hostages, likely taking the blood Spyro and Cynder bore from their wounds to be a sign of duress, and by the look in the electricity dragon's eyes it looked like he was calculating the best strategy to incapacitate this threat before he could strike. Fearing a confrontation that could rapidly escalate out of control, the purple dragon tried to dispel the guard's fears.

"We brought him here because he has important information that we need. That's why we need to see the Guardians as quickly as possible."

The guard considered him for a moment, seeming to have difficulty believing this story, but Spyro was in no mood to back down after the ordeal he had been through and the guard seemed to realize this.

"If it is urgent then we can lead you down the main street," the dragon relented finally, "but there is the citizens' reaction to the prisoner to consider if they see him. A prison wagon can be brought to conceal him, but that will take time."

"Wow," Nexus said with a cynical chuckle. "_Love_ the welcome you guys give here in this city."

"Shut up," Cynder growled threateningly, her tail blade twitching behind her. "Just be glad we don't knock you out and drag you up there."

Spyro gave the black dragoness a mildly disapproving look before turning back to the guard. "Are there any other options?"

"If I could make a suggestion here," Nexus spoke up, earning renewed glares from the guards and Cynder.

No one had a chance to offer a retort, because without warning the colour of his scales shimmered in the darkness. As the dragons and moles watched in surprise and alarm, the purple dragon before them transformed into one of the ice element instead. His scales took on a cool blue tone, his chest and wing membranes turning to an even icier hue, and his horns, tail spade and facial features morphed in shape to be more appropriate for a dragon of his chosen type. Only his eyes remained unaltered, glinting with a smug light.

"Problem solved."

The guards all appeared unnerved and greatly on edge after Nexus's unexpected display of his unique power, and Spyro found himself shooting the other ex-purple dragon another stern look, but it seemed that no one could argue that this made things easier for them.

"Very well," the electricity dragon guard sighed, clearly displeased with the situation but choosing not to argue against Spyro's judgement. "This way. Guard, form up around the prisoner and keep alert. If he even twitches wrong, end him."

The dragons and moles obeyed immediately, skirting around so that they surrounded Nexus on the sides and behind, the moles keeping bows trained on him constantly and the dragons with their wings half spread and no doubt with their elements primed to release in an instant. Nexus didn't so much as flinch in response to their actions despite the menacing looks he was receiving.

"Follow me," the lead guard then ordered gruffly, and with that he turned around and began marching up the cobbled street toward the core of the city. Spyro and Cynder followed behind him and the freshly-disguised Nexus trailed between them, keeping his movements as steady and unthreatening as possible. Spyro watched him with unwavering vigilance as they walked, thinking inside that his counterpart was being far more cooperative than he had been anticipating. If anything, this only increased his suspicions to what his ulterior motives for coming to the city might be. It seemed as though the answers would only reveal themselves in time, however, and resignedly Spyro accepted the fact that he would just have to wait to see what Nexus's plans really were.

As he followed the yellow-scaled guard up the city's sloping streets, the thought he found dominating his mind was how completely different this day had turned out from what he had been expecting when he left Sky Haven that morning.

He could only pray that they weren't making a terrible mistake.

* * *

**Whoo! Looks like Nexus has finally made his grand entrance! This probably means that things in the city will get much more interesting from here on out. We'll just have to wait and see.**

**Until next time.**


	13. Chapter 13: A Foe Among Us

**Looks like it's time for another update. :) Bit of a shift of pace from the last one, but I enjoyed writing it and so I hope it's just as enjoyable to read. We'll just have to see, won't we?**

**Well, I won't delay you any longer. On you go!**

* * *

_Chapter 13: A Foe Among Us_

_I cannot believe Spyro's actually doing this_.

Cynder's face was set in an ill-tempered snarl as she walked with their protective escort through the mostly-empty streets of Warfang. Her muscles were so rigid and tense that they were almost cramping up, her tail twitching almost constantly in readiness to lash out with the deadly blade on its tip. It was the angriest she could ever remember feeling, even in her time serving under Malefor, and all it took was one glance to her right for that anger to boil up to within inches of the breaking point.

Nexus. She couldn't believe the nerve of that purple scum, that he had been so bold as to actually _ask_ them to let him follow them into the city, as if there was no reason that he ought to feel unwelcome there. After the pain and suffering that he had caused under the guise of his alleged brother, to see him walking calmly through the city's streets with an absolutely relaxed expression on his face as though he _belonged_ there was almost more than Cynder could stand.

She despised him for his calmness, and more so for even returning in the first place. Right when things had started looking up and she thought that the time had come that she and the rest of the city could be happy again, he had shown up to ruin it all. And the worst part of it was that Spyro had just _let_ him!

Beneath her anger Cynder understood why he had done it. She knew that he was thinking back to the battle against Ragnor's ghost in the Well of Souls that they had barely escaped from alive. She had seen the fear reflected in his eyes, and it had unnerved her greatly. He had always been the calm, collected one. During every struggle they had faced together, he had been the strong anchoring point that had allowed them to push through the greatest of obstacles. But now Cynder could see that strength faltering under the looming threat of the terrible purple dragon that had attacked them, and she knew that Spyro was grasping for any ally to help him now that the danger of a similar attack was upon them. No, she didn't blame him for his decision, and inside she was determined to support him no matter what came from it.

Still, it was a difficult decision for her to swallow. Had it been left up to her she would have liked nothing more than to end Nexus's miserable existence back on that stone outcropping when he had dared to show his face, but she knew that Spyro was adamant that they needed the other purple dragon's assistance. She wished that he had been more suspicious, more cautious. Even despite her memories of how brutally difficult the battles against Nexus had been in the past, she almost wished that Spyro had chosen to fight Nexus right then and there, for then perhaps she would have had the chance to repay some of the suffering that Nexus had dealt. However Spyro had elected to go for a more diplomatic route, and Cynder wasn't about to let her support of him waver now despite her own feelings.

_He doesn't deserve to have us listen to him_, she snarled inwardly. _He deserves to feel the suffering he put Spyro through. That he made _me_ put Spyro through._

What infuriated her most of all was that this was probably never going to happen. Assuming that Nexus's intentions actually were what he said, she knew that one of the conditions for his cooperation would be amnesty from his crimes. All he had to do was tell them some basic information about their shadowy assailants—information that she had no doubt they could learn on their own given enough time, albeit at a cost—and he would get away with everything! After tearing apart every relationship Spyro had at the time of his attacks and crippling him for life, Nexus would get out of this completely unscathed. What a disgusting joke!

_Well, I know one thing for sure_, Cynder thought darkly, casting the disguised purple dragon a deadly glare out of the corner of her eye and suppressing a growl deep in her throat. _I for one won't be letting him off that easy any time soon._

Their progress through the city was relatively quick. In spite of how full the city was due to the festival the hour was late enough that most of the citizens and guests had retired for the night. The occasional outdoor event could still be heard over the rooftops, but most of those were coming from the direction of the squares and gardens nearer to the centre of the city. As a result, very few creatures were present to see the procession of guards march past with the two heroes and their uninvited guest, Nexus passing right under the noses of everyone in Warfang once again.

It made Cynder sick to think about it.

Finally the Temple grounds came into view ahead, the faint glow from lanterns around the courtyard and torchlight from the Temple's windows chasing away the darkness of night. Their arrival wasn't a moment too soon in Cynder's opinion, because if she had been forced to walk beside Nexus for any longer she felt like she might snap. Instead, though, she forced herself to keep her composure as the armed group passed through the towering building's main entrance, the guards stationed there giving them questioning looks as they strode inside. Once through the doorway they steered Nexus into the assembly hall to await the Guardians while the electricity dragon guard went off to summon them.

"You guys sure fixed this place up well," Nexus remarked, glancing around the spacious, immaculate chamber as he sat down. Cynder had to dig her talons into the stone to keep from pouncing at him right then and there as an image of his attack against the Guardians flashed in her memory. Spyro seemed to notice her reaction, for he padded over to her and guided her a few paces away from the not-ice dragon before sitting down between them, trying to calm her down. While she appreciated his concern she was in no mood to be restrained at that moment, though, and she pulled away from her companion's touch.

"How are you so calm about this?" she whispered to him, her glare never leaving Nexus.

"I'm trying to concentrate on how much those things scared me instead of what he did," the purple dragon replied in a grim tone. "But that only works so well."

Thankfully, they didn't have to wait much longer before the sound of heavy paws brushing against stone reached their ears from beyond the chamber. A moment later the yellow-scaled guard appeared through the doorway opposite the hall's main entrance, the four Guardians following right behind him. Cyril and Terrador were conversing with each other quietly as they entered, the other two listening in, but they all stopped dead when they beheld the scene awaiting them.

"Well isn't this most unexpected, unanticipated, unpredicted and unforeseen," Volteer stammered with a startled look on his expression, his eyes roving over the group with keen interest.

"Quite right, Volteer," Cyril nodded, turning his gaze toward Spyro and Cynder. "How is it that you both have returned so quickly and so suddenly?"

"And wounded," Terrador added, his keen eyes quickly picking up on the dried blood on their scales and the small gashes that Spyro still bore. "I take it there was trouble on the road."

"What happened?" Sirius asked them, concern clear in his expression.

Instead of answering the two young dragons turned their eyes toward Nexus, Spyro's expression grim and Cynder's bearing open hostility. The Guardians all followed their gazes, and once they had done so Nexus offered a half-smirk at the corner of his mouth before allowing his form to revert to normal. The reaction was immediate, all four larger dragons jumping back in shock.

"By the Ancestors!" Cyril exclaimed. "What in the name of Yore is that heathen doing here?"

"A very good question," Terrador rumbled dangerously, his battle-tested instincts kicking in and his posture turning to one of readiness.

"You can all relax," Nexus told them, rolling his eyes. "As I just finished telling those two, I'm not here for any trouble."

"That claim is highly unintuitive and most difficult to fathom," Volteer commented.

"As far as we can tell so far, he's telling the truth," Spyro told the Guardians in a hard, measured tone. "We were ambushed just north of the swamp by some kind of shadow creatures that he calls 'wraiths'. We probably would have been overwhelmed if Nexus hadn't arrived and helped us."

"Helped you?" Sirius repeated dubiously.

"Didn't get much of a thank you for it either," Nexus grunted, rubbing his neck from the memory of Cynder's tail blade being pressed against it.

"Are you really surprised?" Cynder growled at him.

Nexus shot her a mild frown of contempt. The Guardians, meanwhile, seemed taken aback by the black dragoness's hostility, but only slightly. They cast her quick glances before Terrador brought their attention back to the matter at hand.

"And why would you suddenly chose to help after making such an effort to break Spyro down six months ago and turn us all against him?" the Earth Guardian asked, his baritone voice echoing in the large chamber. "You seemed bent on destroying him then, so what could have changed?"

"Nothing did," Nexus replied with a frankness that caught the other dragons in the room off guard. "I was acting under orders then, in the interest of self-preservation because of what would happen to me if I failed. Now that Ragnor's after my head that same self-preservation demands that I fight on your side." He paused, then added, "Also, just for clarity, destroying Spyro was never my goal."

"So what was it?" Cynder asked fiercely. "Because you sure did a good job making it seem that way."

"It's complicated, and the details aren't exactly relevant right now, are they?" the purple dragon retorted. "How about we focus on the main threat for now and we can get into everyone's back-stories later?"

Cynder's glare intensified, but she forced herself to keep from snapping back at him again. She knew that if she wasn't careful she might escalate to the point of attacking, and she didn't want to end up adding to the strain of the situation, for Spyro's sake if nothing else.

"He says he has information that he can give us to help fight the wraiths the next time they attack," the purple dragon said, jolting Cynder's focus back to the matter at hand. "After getting attacked by them once, I felt that having as much information on them as possible was something that we would really need."

"Why is that?" Terrador asked.

"Because they weren't like anything I had ever fought before," Spyro answered, and Cynder saw a faint glint of fear creep into his gaze as he doubtlessly thought back to the battle they had just escaped. "Nothing we were doing seemed to be hurting them. They just kept on coming no matter how badly we injured them. We were ambushed by a fifteen or so at the most, and I'm really scared to think of how disastrous it could be if there are even more of those things out there and they attack again without warning."

"You can be sure that there are more," Nexus said grimly. "I've never seen them before now, but from what I've been told there's an entire army of them, and they have the capability to attack anywhere, anytime, without any warning beforehand. The panic that they could cause from that kind of sudden attack would make it impossible to fight back against them unless you're prepared ahead of time. That's what I can help you with."

The Guardians exchanged wary glances, all of them looking just as suspicious as Cynder and Spyro had been when Nexus had first appeared. The black dragoness felt a small swell of satisfaction when they seemed to be just as hesitant to believe him as she had been, but despite this she also felt an underlying unease that stayed her aggression. She had to admit that she shared Spyro's fears of these mysterious creatures. Thinking back at how invincible they had seemed to be when they had attacked, the further idea of an army of them was a disturbing one indeed.

"It is a troubling story, to be sure," Cyril grunted, narrowing his frosty eyes skeptically. "But what proof can you give us?"

"Nothing really," Nexus admitted with an unconcerned shrug, and Cynder bristled at his completely nonchalant attitude about this whole affair. He jerked a wing toward Spyro and Cynder. "Just those two as witnesses. I know it's not much compared to what you have against me, but I'll say the same thing that I said to Spyro: We have the same enemy right now, and that enemy is too powerful to stand against alone. He'll come for me, and he'll come for Spyro, and he'll level this city without a second thought to get to him."

"And you claim to be strong enough to stop that?" Sirius asked doubtfully.

"No. But I can give you as much of a chance against him as possible. I'm offering to tell you everything I know, and to help in fighting when his next attack comes. All I'm asking for in return is for you to let me."

The four older dragons exchanged another conflicted look, Terrador giving a low rumbling grunt from deep in his throat. It was all too clear that the Guardians were not at all inclined to extend any considerations toward this dragon, this murderer and deceiver, but at the same time they seemed unwilling to dismiss the threat that he was describing, just as Spyro had been. At that moment Terrador turned his gaze toward said purple dragon.

"Spyro," he said gravely. "You've had the closest dealings with him. What are your thoughts?"

"I don't trust him," Spyro replied immediately, turning a hard look toward his counterpart. Nexus returned a steady gaze, unmoving. "After the things he's done I don't know whether he deserves for us to give him any chances." Then he paused, releasing a heavy sigh, and it was a long moment before he spoke again. "But then I think about the fight in the Well of Souls. As much as I'm suspicious of Nexus, the idea of facing Ragnor again terrifies me."

There it was again: that suffocating fear hidden in his amethyst eyes, only this time he made much less effort to conceal it. Cynder felt her simmering anger waver momentarily when she realized just how afraid of Ragnor her companion really was. Not even when facing Malefor had she seen this much fear inside of him, but she knew that this was far different. This was an enemy that he couldn't fight directly, that somehow seemed to be invisible and everywhere at once, even able to invade his mind and torture him with a paralyzing pain from which there was no escape. She realized that she couldn't imagine what that must be like, and in that moment it was no wonder to her that he was so desperate as to turn to Nexus for any information he could find now.

"Your worries are understandable," Terrador said carefully. "But there is the security of our city to consider, especially now that it is the temporary home to so many members of our both race and others. The crimes that were committed here are things that we can't simply overlook."

"There is an inordinate quantity of uncertainty and far too many unknown variables involved here," Volteer sighed. "It is a quandary with no apparent resolution."

"Indeed," Terrador nodded, turning his scrutinizing gaze toward the motionless purple dragon. "This is quite the difficult situation that you've put us in."

"What I would like to know," Cyril interjected, glaring at Nexus icily, "is how we can be certain that the ambush that brought you here wasn't something of your own design."

"That's just dumb," Nexus scoffed, causing Cyril to bristle. "Why would I risk my neck to save this idiot from an attack that I set up in the first place? Why would I go to such elaborate measures to trick you into trusting me just so that I could get into the city when I could have just infiltrated it at any time I wanted by disguising myself? I've done it twice before, and it would be way easier than going to this kind of trouble if that's what I had wanted."

"Twice, did you say?" Volteer repeated in confusion. "It is to my recollection that you have only been here once, under the guise of our young Spyro."

"Exactly," Nexus smirked. "You never even realized I had ever been here the first time, but I spent weeks watching your every move here. How else do you think I became familiar with the city and Spyro's habits in it before impersonating him? So you see, if I wanted to attack you from the inside there are much, _much_ easier ways for me to do it that are way less risky."

A heavy silence fell over the chamber, everyone present clearly uncomfortable from the purple dragon's assertions but at the same time finding that this argument had merit. Eventually Terrador gave a long sigh, looking more conflicted than Cynder had ever seen him.

"So, let me make certain that I have this all straight," he rumbled, rubbing his brow wearily. "After doing everything in your power to demolish the reputation of Spyro, nearly destroying our city and three others and killing dozens of dragons and our allies by your paws alone, you come to us now because you want to _help_ us against the very force that you were apparently serving during that time?"

"Not because I want to," Nexus corrected with a hard scowl. "Because I have no other choice. My death is guaranteed if I try and hold out on my own, so I have to find someone strong enough to help me fight against Ragnor's power. The only one that fits that description is Spyro, so here I am."

"And you expect us to just accept that?" Sirius cut in with a deep frown on his face. "You expect _Spyro_ to accept that after you nearly got him killed, and by us no less?"

Cynder's eyes darted to the poison scar on Spyro's foreleg, and all at once her jaws and talons clenched painfully as a storm of guilt and hatred swelled within her. Somehow, though, she managed to restrain herself from lunging for Nexus's throat right then and there.

"Yes," Nexus answered flatly. "Because just like me, you don't have a choice either. I know none of you want Spyro to die, but he _will_ if Ragnor has anything to say about it. He needs my help just as much as I need his. You all do. I don't like it any more than you guys, but all of our paws are forced here. Trust me; if there was another way, I'd be taking it."

It was abundantly clear that these statements didn't sit well with the four dragon leaders. Tense looks and rumbling growls of displeasure were exchanged, but no words were spoken as they all mulled over everything they had heard. It was obvious that they were caught in a vastly difficult situation, unsure what to believe. Eventually it was Sirius that broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Maybe we need more time to discuss this," he suggested to his mentors.

"Hmm," Terrador grunted, nodding slowly. "Perhaps that's best. We can decide on a course of action in the morning once we've allowed the shock to fade and we've had more time to weigh the alternatives."

"What will we do with the party in question in the meantime?" Volteer protested. "We certainly cannot leave him free and unrestrained, able to roam about within the city."

"Indeed not," Cyril agreed. "The courthouse dungeons, perhaps?"

Nexus's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, yeah, _that_ sounds inviting."

His remark went unheeded. Instead the electricity dragon guard stepped forward, catching the Guardians' attention.

"If you wish, my men and I can escort the prisoner to the cells and establish a watch to make certain that he doesn't slip out during the night," he declared.

"That may be our best course of action, although the watch on him would have to be heavily reinforced," Terrador nodded slowly. "Very well. Take him there immediately and make the necessary arrangements."

Nexus snorted and shook his head as though the entire situation was a bad joke. Cynder agreed to an extent—what could a prison cell do to contain a dragon that could create portals at will and who outmatched every other dragon in the city in terms of power? Still, the decision was made so there was no use arguing. She was tired enough as it was anyway and just wanted this mess to be over with for the night.

"What about the rest of the city?" Cyril spoke up. "Holding him here without there being any knowledge of it is far too risky for my taste. The Guard should be alerted."

"I agree," Terrador said. "However, it would most likely be best if the citizens themselves remained unaware. We don't want to create a panic."

"Quite right," Volteer nodded vigorously, and Sirius gave his own nod of agreement as well.

"That's settled then. Lieutenant."

"Yes sir?" the yellow dragon said just before he and the rest of the procession disappeared through the chamber's entrance, the once again disguised Nexus following quietly in their midst.

"Once you're finished at the courthouse, report to General Mason and apprise him of the situation. Have him pass word along to the rest of the Guard as well."

"It will be done, sirs," the lieutenant said with a sharp bob of his head. Then he spun around and vanished through the arched entranceway, the rest of his men and their prisoner following. Just before they disappeared from sight Cynder saw Nexus turn his head back and shoot one last glance at his brother. His gaze was difficult to read but it seemed to Cynder as if it contained a grim assurance, as though he was saying that this was all far from over. It didn't have the feeling of a threat, however, but rather simply a promise. Then the blue-scaled ice dragon impersonator was gone.

"Well, it seems as if we have a great deal to discuss," Terrador sighed. "This promises to be a long night."

The other Guardians nodded their heads grimly. Then, together, they turned about and began moving toward the doorway from which they had entered, casting a few final glances toward the younger pair before they left. Sirius lingered however, padding over to them.

"So, you're both alright?" he asked them, his eyes roaming over the patches of dried blood that stained their scales a sickly red. "Is there anything you need? Spirit gems?"

"No, thanks," Spyro answered, and Cynder shook her head as well. "I think we both just want to rest."

"I understand," the new Guardian nodded. "Go on and clean up then, and see if you can't get some sleep. I recommend that you both be here early tomorrow morning, though. The other Guardians are probably going to have a lot more questions, and we're going to need a detailed account of what happened."

"We'll be here," Cynder promised.

Sirius gave one final nod, then turned to follow after his colleagues. Once he and the other elder dragons had gone Cynder followed Spyro as he led them toward the Temple's main entrance. When they were outside they caught a brief glance of the procession of guards before they descended into the city and disappeared again.

"This is seriously messed up," Cynder growled bitterly, her anger welling up within her again. "He shouldn't be here."

Spyro made no reply. Instead he simply turned a guarded look toward her briefly, and when Cynder met his eyes she was surprised to find that she had a great deal of difficulty reading them.

"Let's just go get cleaned up and worry about this tomorrow," he sighed.

Cynder hesitated for a second longer before nodding. "Fine. But I'll tell you this: I don't know how much sleep I'll be getting tonight."

"Me neither. Come on."

He nudged her flank with a folded wing, and with a relenting sigh Cynder began following him again as he padded toward their residence. Whether or not she would manage to get to sleep she was at least glad that she would soon be able to sink into her cushions in her room and rest her aching body. After the strains they had endured that day, she was ready to collapse.

However, as it turned out there would be one last obstacle before this would be possible. As they neared the residence building one thing they weren't expecting was to see Flash, Faren, Chinook, Enigma and, to Cynder's mild surprise, even Voltra approaching from the other direction. They were all talking excitedly about some sort of fire-element demonstration that they had apparently just watched in the gardens—fire dancing, she thought she heard them call it? Regardless of what it was, she hadn't been anticipating an encounter with them this late in the evening, but there they were.

Faren was the first to notice the pair coming toward them in the street, and when she did she stopped dead in her tracks with her eyes widening. Unfortunately for her the others didn't notice her abrupt halt until it was too late. Chinook crashed right into her from behind, tripping on her tail and hind legs and sending both of them unceremoniously to the ground in a tangled heap.

"Whoops," Chinook chuckled with a sheepish grin across his muzzle. "Sorry, Fare. You okay?"

The smaller red dragoness nodded her head mutely, accepting the paw that Chinook offered her a moment later. As the wind dragon helped her back to her paws Flash finally noticed what had caught her attention and faltered.

"Where did you guys come from?" he asked in surprise.

"Who?" Voltra said, shooting the white dragon a confused look before following his gaze. As soon as she did her eyes widened too, then brightened considerably.

"Hey! You're back!" she exclaimed, she and the couple's other friends hurrying over to greet them. "You're never going to guess what happened while..."

She trailed off and the group drew to an uncertain standstill when they finally caught sight of the grim, exhausted expressions on the purple and black dragons. Then Voltra's eyes widened once more with alarm when she saw the blood on them.

"You're hurt!" she exclaimed.

"What happened?" Chinook said, concern and curiosity showing in equal parts in his eyes as he leaned closer to examine them.

The five young dragons crowded around the two new arrivals in an instant, all of them clearly worried for their friends' welfares—even Enigma, though her expression hardly showed it of course. Voltra was the boldest out of them all. Her gaze paused concernedly on the dried blood coating the side of Cynder's head, then shifted to the remains of the deep cut under Spyro's eye. The worry in her expression deepened, and as if without thinking she lifted a forepaw and gently ran it across the wound on his cheek, examining the flecks of blood that stuck to her paw when she pulled it back. Spyro appeared caught off guard by the action while Cynder went rigid beside him, her jaw clenching involuntarily and her talons clamping against the cobblestones. Voltra didn't seem to notice either reaction, nothing but concern showing in her eyes as she took in the sight of the blood.

"What did this to you two?" she asked.

"Did you run into danger on your trip back?" Flash inquired with a hint of suspicion, eyeing the blade that still adorned the end of Spyro's tail. "Was it grublins?"

Spyro glanced back at his tail when he saw where Flash was looking, and a hint of surprise crossed his features when he saw the ice blade there. Cynder realized that he had completely forgotten it was still there as he lifted it up to examine it in the torchlight. Then, with a weary sigh, he allowed the blade to disintegrate and looked back up at his friends.

"It's not something you need to worry about right now."

This was clearly not the response that the other dragons were expecting, and their reactions spanned a mix of confusion and suspicion. Neither Spyro nor Cynder were in the mood to elaborate at that time, however. By this point Cynder could feel the weight of her weariness catching up with her, and she wanted nothing more than to just make it back to her chambers to lie down and rest. Spyro looked to be in even worse shape, and when he spoke the tiredness could be heard in the slightly ragged sound of his voice.

"Sorry guys, but the Guardians want us at the Temple early tomorrow, and we both really need to rest before then." He began carefully pushing past the other dragons that had him and Cynder boxed in by this point. "We'll explain when we can. Night"

There were a couple of protests, but Spyro didn't say another word as he padded heavily toward the residence doorway. Cynder lingered only long enough to cast a quick, hard glance around at the five other young dragons before she too headed inside, her destination the wash chambers at the back of the building's main floor. As her leaden paws bore her forward, her tired mind emptied of everything except a cold, grim intensity that was so familiar to her from her time as Malefor's general. It was the mindset that she fell into whenever a threat reared its head, and the fact that it was so close to home only made it all the more intense.

All she had wanted was quiet; to be able to put the war, fighting and death behind her and look ahead to a life of contentment and fulfilment. Instead, it seemed as if her punishment for her past sins was never-ending trials, for now each time a ray of light appeared it was promptly choked out by the looming threat of yet more violence. They were in the midst of a festival of peace, having just secured unity with a blossoming dragon city, and instead of joy there was only ambushes, shadowy foes the likes of which she had never encountered before, and the single most hated dragon in her life next to Malefor himself waltzing right into the heart of Warfang to taunt her anew. When would this madness end, she wondered in aggravation?

_Sometimes, I really hate my life._

***.*.***

As Spyro slowly awoke to the breathless silence of his bed chambers, he felt as though he was still trapped within a dream. An odd sort of unreality dominated his groggy mind, and for a long moment he could make no sense of it. He knew that he was exhausted and sore, and he knew that something felt off in the air. Whatever it was, though, it took him a long time to place it.

At length it slowly clicked, broken images from the previous night surfacing in his sleep-addled memory, and immediately a grim scowl settled over his features. The images had the same sort of dreamlike quality to them as everything else though—or perhaps nightmarish was a better way of putting it. He only had to look down and see the round gouge on his plated chest scales to confirm that his memories were the real thing, however, and he gave a heavy groan.

He reluctantly pushed himself to a standing position and plodded out into the main room of his chambers, glancing toward the balcony. The pale, yellow-tinged light that seeped in from the east and the chill that rode on the air informed him that it was still quite early in the morning, much earlier than when the Guardians would be wishing to see him, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Falling asleep in the first place had been enough of a challenge, and now his mind was refusing to entertain the idea.

With a sigh, the purple dragon pulled open the door and exited his room.

Clarity gradually returned to his thoughts as he stepped out from the residence into the mostly deserted street. With this clarity, inevitably his thoughts turned to the later developments of the previous night. In response his paws bore him almost of their own will toward the city courthouse to the southwest of the Temple.

_Well, the city's still standing_, he mused, glancing around as he walked. The thought didn't lessen the tension in his gut, however.

The sight of two fully armoured guards standing on either side of the courthouse's vaulted entranceway was all it took to drive home the validity of his memories. It seemed as if the two burly dragons had been expecting him to show up, for they gave him only the slightest of glances as he passed. Once inside he gradually found his way through the unfamiliar rooms and stairwells until he reached the building's detention level, passing several more guards along the way that gave the whole place the feeling of being a military garrison rather than a civilian institution of the law. It sent an uneasy shiver down his spine, a feeling only amplified when he stepped into the dimmer corridor of the dungeons.

Oddly, the first thought that entered Spyro's mind was how much cleaner it was than he had expected. The second thing he noticed was the unearthly silence.

Every single cell in sight was empty, devoid of any signs of being occupied. Warfang was generally a peaceful place, but he would have expected at least a few delinquents to be found. There were none, however, and scarcely any sign that there had been any before now. Puzzled, Spyro slowly made his way down the narrow passage, almost flinching as the sound of his claws scraping against the granite floor echoed back at him. Had there really been no prisoners here before last night? Or had they simply all been moved?

He rounded the corner at the end of the stretch of hallway, and it was only then that his eyes fell upon living forms. Five guards stood at stiff attention halfway down this new length of the corridor, three dragons and two moles that were armed with swords and bows, all of them fully armoured and forming a sort of half-ring facing a particular cell on the right. They moved back a couple of paces when Spyro approached, wordlessly allowing him to pass, but their gazes never left their charge. Once within the ring of guards and suddenly feeling oddly trapped, the purple dragon finally turned his gaze toward the inside of the cell.

Nexus was lying on his back on a thick stone slab that served as the cell's bed, situated against the far wall of the chamber. His head was propped up by his horns, his eyes trained listlessly on the paw that he was holding up in the air. The scales on the paw were constantly changing, the colour and scale patterns shifting endlessly, first from a navy blue to a mossy green, then to a cloudy grey and finally to a muted yellow. At this one he paused, his eyes taking on a new studying glint as he twisted the paw back and forth to examine it. Faint, jagged lines of electric blue traced themselves across the yellow scales at his command, forming a pattern that was easy to envision on any electricity dragon. A small grunt of approval sounded from the purple dragon's throat. Then the transformations began anew.

"Figured you'd show up," he said suddenly, his voice causing Spyro to jump. His gaze didn't stray from his paw, however, and aside from his words there was no indication that he had noticed his counterpart's presence at all.

Spyro didn't answer for a few seconds, grappling with the conflict inside of himself. Eventually he managed to force out, "Did you?"

Nexus gave an affirmative grunt.

Spyro's brow furrowed at the other purple dragon's inertness. "How come?"

"Just logical," Nexus shrugged with his folded wings. "There's a lot of questions on your mind. I saw it in your eyes last night."

This time it was Spyro's turn to grunt, his expression stony.

"Actually, right now the only thing on my mind is why you haven't broken out of here yet."

Nexus paused, his eye swivelling toward Spyro at his suspicious tone, and after a moment he rolled over onto his stomach facing his brother, his paw reverting to its natural colour. Then a half-hearted smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.

"I've been tempted," he chuckled wryly. "But I doubted it would make the best impression."

"A little late for good impressions, isn't it?"

Nexus studied him briefly, seeming to consider the hint of hostility in Spyro's tone. At length he shrugged again and rolled away again, this time conjuring a spark of electricity in his paw and twirling it lazily around his talons.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and find out."

Spyro was caught off guard by how indifferent he seemed about the situation. He was expecting...well, he didn't know what he was expecting with Nexus. He never had, come to realize it. He had been surrounded in mystery ever since Spyro's first encounter with him, and that was one of the things that set Spyro so much on edge about his presence now—almost more than the threat of his power, even.

He didn't know how long he sat there, studying the other purple dragon as if expecting him to make some sort of sudden move, but Nexus remained stubbornly inactive. He just lay there, staring at his paw as he fidgeted with his different elements, an air of heavy boredom about him and nothing more than that. As time wore on, though, Spyro found a new question beginning to gnaw at the back of his mind, growing in strength until couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Why did you help?"

Nexus paused once more, turning his eye toward his sibling, and Spyro had to fight not to shrink back from his intimidating stare.

"I already told you," he answered finally. "We're both in danger from the wraiths. We need each other."

"No," Spyro said flatly, shaking his head. "Before."

A brief glint of surprise appeared in Nexus's eyes. Then his gaze became distant, his paw falling to his chest absently. Spyro gave a small, confused frown when he finally saw the storm of conflict that was hidden in the other purple dragon's eyes.

"I don't know," he muttered after a long silence had passed.

Spyro's frown deepened.

"That's vague," he returned. "You aren't going to try and make a better case for yourself?"

He faltered once more as Nexus's intense eyes turned to stare into his.

"Figured I'd see where the truth got me this time."

To this Spyro found he had no response. He opened his mouth to answer, but when he did no words came. In the end he could only stare uncertainly at his counterpart lying before him.

_None of this makes any sense_, he thought numbly. _This isn't how I was expecting him to act._

His mind wandered back to the last time he had faced this dragon that called himself his brother, and he recalled the way that Nexus had behaved then. He could see it as if it had been only yesterday—his expressionless eyes; the air of resignation, even surrender, about him. It was eerily similar to what Spyro was seeing in him now, as if the other purple dragon had accepted the fact that in that moment, he had no control over his fate.

_But he has the power to control it_, Spyro thought, his eyes narrowing in confusion. _He has the choice to leave at any time. Why does he seem so surrendered, then? Is it all an act?_

It could have been, but some inexplicable sense within Spyro's gut told him otherwise.

Another question suddenly sprang up in his mind, one that caught him off guard both because of its topic and because of the intensity behind it. At first he felt uncomfortable asking it, especially with the guards watching, but it refused to be budged from his mind and at length he gave a grumble of surrender, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"Are you really my brother?"

The question seemed to amuse Nexus, for he gave a quiet chuckle from within his cell. He glanced at Spyro briefly, then nodded, his horns making a scraping noise against the stone bed.

"Yeah. Why?"

Spyro didn't answer, unsure himself why he had even really asked. He had just felt like he had to. Despite Nexus's answer, though, a large part of him refused to believe that it was true. It didn't make any sense anyway. If they were really brothers, why would his egg have come to the Guardians and not Nexus's. Still, that strange feeling inside of him made him less certain.

It was several moments before he spoke again.

"How?"

The faint grin on Nexus's muzzle faded, a clouded look coming over his eyes, and Spyro felt himself shifting with a feeling of uneasiness at that look.

"It's a complicated story," Nexus sighed finally, meeting Spyro's gaze. "One that should probably be saved for a better setting. More private."

A frown formed on Spyro's features, his eyes narrowing.

"You're asking me to believe a lot here. I didn't agree to bring you here so that you could keep secrets, you know."

"I know that. But ask yourself this: Given the circumstances surrounding the both of us, do you really want every detail out for anyone to hear? Or do you think it would be wiser to save it for someplace where only a trusted few can listen?"

Spyro hesitated, but inside he realized that Nexus did have a point. He glanced around at the guards again. They were standing at stiff attention, making no indication that they were listening to the conversation, but Spyro knew they were paying attention to every single second.

"Alright," he relented. "But you agreed to share your information, and I'm going to hold you to that. I want answers."

"You'll get them," Nexus assured him, holding his gaze unwaveringly. "I promise. All in due time. But that time's not now."

Spyro remained silent, studying the other purple dragon suspiciously, but finally he gave in and nodded his head slightly.

_I may not like it, but I'm just going to have to trust what he says for the time being_.

Just at that moment the sound of the dungeons' heavy iron door opening echoed to them from down the hall, and both Spyro and Nexus paused and looked toward the sound. Heavy pawsteps and the clanking of armour approached them, and shortly afterward three more guard dragons appeared around the corner. Raulk was in the lead, his thick wooden armour making hardly any sound in comparison to the two bulky guards that followed at his sides, both of them of the electricity element. The five guards already at the cell spread apart to allow the captain through, and the three newcomers drew to a halt a couple of paces from the cell.

"Master Spyro," Raulk said in his rumbling voice after a short pause, bowing his head.

Spyro returned the gesture. Then they both turned their heads toward Nexus, who seemed to take that as a cue to roll off of the stone slab and onto his paws on the floor. He took a moment to stretch the stiffness from his neck, wings, and back, grimacing as his spine made a series of soft pops from spending the night on the unforgiving stone. Then he waited patiently for the cell door to be opened, at the same time transforming into his ice dragon disguise.

"Stand back please," Raulk told Spyro. Once the purple dragon had complied he stepped forward and pressed a paw against the lock of the cell door. A series of elemental sigils on the metal flashed with green light, and an instant later a crackle and snapping sound rang out as some sort of anti-elemental reinforcement magic on the bars deactivated. Then a dull clunk was heard as the bolts retracted and the heavy door swung open with a groan. The guards moved into defensive positions.

"Follow," Raulk grunted to Nexus, and the once-purple dragon simply nodded and obeyed, striding calmly out into the corridor a few paces back from Raulk's swaying tail club. The rest of the guards formed into ranks around him, all at full alert, and Spyro fell into step behind them. Then, in utter silence, the group began the short trek toward the Temple and the waiting Guardians.

***.*.***

"Oh, man, whose idea was it to get up this early?"

Flash's brow arched as he turned a sidelong glance toward the grey dragon sitting beside him, jaws gaping in an enormous yawn. The young light dragon actually felt the air shudder from the force of it, and he gave a semi-amused, semi-irritated scoff as Chinook gave his head a rough shake to try and wake himself up. It seemed to have minimal effect, his eyelids still drooping heavily.

"Yours," Flash answered pointedly. "Remember?"

Chinook chuckled. "Hey, it's not like you weren't just as curious about what Spyro and Cynder were up to. I saw that look in your eyes last night after they left. You probably would have been up even if I didn't suggest it."

Flash couldn't deny this, so in the end he simply gave a shrug. Chinook smirked in triumph, then resumed keeping watch over the Temple courtyard that was spread out before them, the cobblestones highlighted by the light of the rising sun. The two young dragons were perched on the low stone wall that ran around the courtyard's perimeter, waiting for Spyro and Cynder to show up. They had been sitting there for almost fifteen minutes by this point, but there had been no sign of either of them yet.

"You don't think we missed them, do you?" Flash asked a moment later, turning another glance toward Chinook. "They could already be inside."

The wind dragon shook his head immediately, looking nonchalant. "Nah. Welcome party's still waiting for them."

He jerked a wing toward the Temple steps, indicating the four dragon guards that were standing in a tight group at their base, conversing quietly with each other. Flash couldn't tell what it was they were talking about from this distance, but they seemed unhappy about it whatever it was. This was especially the case with the guard at the head of the group, none other than Captain Boreas, who stood stiffly with a stormy look in his eyes beneath the lip of his light helm and his mouth drawn into a grim line. At that moment he glanced toward the pair sitting on the wall, a disapproving look in his expression when he saw them waiting there. His gaze seemed to linger on Chinook especially.

"Your dad looks edgier than usual," Flash commented wryly, and Chinook gave a small snort of laughter.

"No kidding. He was in a heck of a mood when he got home last night. Wouldn't say anything about what the problem was, though, even to Mom which was a bit weird. He said he had to be here to meet with the Guardians about some 'critical matter of security' this morning, though, so I'm sure it had something to do with Spyro and Cynder showing up last night. Speaking of which, they were pretty edgy too last night, weren't they?"

"You're surprised?"

Flash jolted at the sudden voice that rang out from below and beside him Chinook was even more startled, letting out a quick yelp before losing his balance on the lip of the wall and slipping backward off the edge. Flash watched as he plummeted the roughly fifteen feet to the stony ground one level down from the courtyard. His wings snapped out and slowed his fall somewhat, but he was unable to right himself before crashing into the ground flat on his back. Flash winced, but couldn't help giving a small chuckle at his friend's clumsiness.

"Oh, hey Cynder," Chinook coughed, half winded from the fall but still able to shoot a broad grin up at the black dragoness that was peering down at him with a brow raised. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Uh huh," Cynder answered dryly, eventually offering a paw to help the wind dragon up. Then she stepped back as he shook himself off to remove the dust from his scales. "Just happened to be out for a morning walk, I take it?"

"Something like that," Flash grunted sarcastically from his perch, and Cynder rolled her eyes while Chinook just grinned again. With a small, exasperated huff the dragoness turned to the stairwell nearby to climb up into the courtyard. Chinook didn't bother with the stairs, simply vaulting back up to the top of the wall with a wind-powered jump and landing nimbly by Flash's side once more. When Cynder reached the courtyard level just to their left she scanned the area with her gaze, then sat back with a mildly frustrated sigh when the object of her search—most likely Spyro—was nowhere to be seen.

"We haven't seen him yet," Flash said, hopping down from the wall and padding over to her, Chinook following him.

Cynder shot him a quick glare, for he had all but just admitted that the two of them had been waiting to intercept the heroes. Flash was unfazed, though, and eventually Cynder simply gave another sigh, her gaze wandering over the courtyard again.

"So, we still haven't gotten any kind of explanation here," Chinook told her. "What had you two so sour last night?"

Cynder gave a snort of dry laughter. "Oh, so it's unusual to be in a bad mood after getting ambushed, is it?"

"I've never been ambushed, so I wouldn't know."

"You got that right."

Chinook was undeterred by her harsh remark, edging closer with the mischievous glint in his eye of a child doing something they knew they shouldn't. "So...?"

Cynder glanced back at him, frowning at the impish grin on his face, and Flash gave another snort of amusement and shook his head at his friend's eagerness for information. At length Cynder let out long sigh, her expression turning grim.

"No offence, but it isn't your business."

Flash raised an eyebrow at her, while Chinook simply appeared determined to try harder to get her to talk. Before he could say anything more that would probably antagonise the grumpy dragoness, though, Flash spoke up.

"I think it's our business when our friends get hurt," he pointed out.

This caused Cynder to meet his gaze for a moment, but soon enough her expression hardened again and she looked away, another tense sigh escaping her.

"I appreciate the concern, and I'm sure Spyro would too, but you guys just need to accept that this doesn't concern you. At least not yet, anyway."

"Aw come on," Chinook pressed her, the eager grin still on his face. "You can trust us. What is it, some sort of super secret mission for the Guardians or something? Legendary dragons only?"

Cynder glanced toward him with a half-hearted smirk. "Afraid not."

"Can't you at least give us some kind of hint? Or are we going to have to force it out of you?"

Cynder actually laughed at that, the hard edge leaving her expression briefly. "You can try all you want, but picking the wrong dragoness for that battle, buddy. Somehow I think I have you a bit outclassed when it comes to experience in interrogation."

"So?" Chinook said stubbornly with a sly grin. "What, you afraid?"

Cynder chuckled again and shook her head in amusement, and it made Flash smile faintly to see the wind dragon succeeding in lightening her dark mood a touch. It was short lived though, for just then her expression clouded quickly when her gaze fell upon a small group entering the courtyard from the southwest. She quickly stood up, her eyes turning cold in a way that immediately caught Flash's attention and aroused his suspicions once more.

"Sorry guys, but you're just going to have to wait," she said grimly. Then, without giving them a chance to reply, she moved off to intercept the approaching group.

Flash and Chinook exchanged a quick glance before following a few paces behind her, Flash's gaze turning toward the approaching party. They were mostly dragons, and almost all of them were wearing armour. The only exceptions were Spyro—who Flash quickly spotted moving away from the group to meet Cynder—and an unknown ice dragon about their age walking in the centre of the formation, looking as though he was being escorted by the guards toward the Temple. His suspicions quickly rose.

"I was wondering where you'd got to when I found your room empty," Cynder said to Spyro as the purple dragon drew to a halt, Flash and Chinook quickly catching up with the pair.

"Couldn't sleep," was Spyro's simple reply. Then his eyes turned briefly toward Flash and Chinook. He didn't look that surprised to see them there, although his expression tensed slightly. "Hey guys."

"Hey pal," Chinook answered brightly, feigning innocence just as he had with Cynder. Then his eyes turned curiously toward the procession of guards and their apparent prisoner. "What's going on?"

"Someone doesn't listen very well," Cynder sighed, an annoyed look in her emerald eyes. It wasn't clear whether she was talking to Spyro or Chinook, but it didn't really matter.

Spyro gave a muted chuckle. "Sorry guys, but it's not the time for an explanation."

"Who is that though?" Flash spoke up, glancing toward the ice dragon, and he didn't miss the look of tension that crossed Spyro's expression when he looked back over his shoulder at the indicated dragon, nor the outright glare from Cynder. "Is he the one that gave you guys those scratches?"

Spyro's eyes darted down quickly to the half-healed gash on his chest, while Flash's lingered on the mark under his eye and the small bruises forming across much of the rest of his body. Quickly enough Spyro met his gaze, though, and when he did Flash was mildly daunted by the look of seriousness in his expression.

"No," he said simply, his tone clearly telling them to let the matter drop. "Sorry, but the Guardians are waiting for us. We'll see you guys later."

With that he turned around and strode off toward the Temple's steps where Raulk was just beginning to climb up with his procession of guards, Boreas and the other guards joining them. Cynder followed the purple dragon closely, turning one last warning look toward the white and grey dragons. Flash watched them leave silently, his wings sagging from a mix of disappointment and suspicion. It was all too obvious that his friends were hiding something of grave importance from them, and if there was one thing he hated, it was being left in the dark—he was a light dragon, after all.

He turned his attention to the icy blue dragon being led up the steps by the guards, his eyes narrowing into a scrutinizing glare. Who was this dragon? Why was he being guarded? And why had Spyro and Cynder—_especially_ Cynder—been so on edge at the mention of him? Something was clearly not adding up.

The unidentified dragon noticed Flash's gaze on him at that moment, and as he reached the top of the steps he turned to look back at him. Their gazes met, and as soon as they had Flash stiffened inexplicably.

Those eyes. He didn't know why, but something about them was just far too familiar. He was unable to place the source of this familiarity though, no matter how hard he struggled to. All he knew was that his mind was screaming at him that something was very, very wrong.

The dragon held his gaze for a moment longer. Then, just before he vanished through the Temple doorway, he shot the light dragon a brief, almost imperceptible smirk at the corner of his muzzle. After that he was gone, disappearing inside the ornate stone building, the guards and Spyro along with him, leaving two large dragons standing watch at the sides of the entryway. For a long time Chinook and Flash just stood there staring after them, their minds churning.

"Well, that was weird," Chinook said finally, turning to look at Flash, but he faltered when he saw the look of intensity in the white dragon's eyes.

"Something's messed up here," he growled quietly, eyes still focussed in a glare at the open doorway and the guards that flanked it. "There was something about that dragon..."

"Yeah, but how are we going to find out more about him? Those guards had him locked down pretty tight, and Spyro and Cynder aren't talking."

"I know," Flash grunted, tapping a paw against the ground in frustration. "If only there was some way we could see what was happening in there..."

A short silence ensued, but then, unseen by Flash, Chinook obtained a devious glint in his eye. He glanced over at the white dragon, a small grin forming at the corner of his muzzle, but then he schooled his features into a more innocent expression.

"Well, I guess there's no helping it," he sighed. "Come on, let's go see if there's anything interesting happening in the gardens yet."

He turned to his right and began circling around the Temple courtyard to the right, toward the stairways that would lead them down toward the garden levels. Flash cast the wind dragon a confused look before following, his brows scrunched up suspiciously—Chinook didn't usually give up this easily. He didn't have long to wonder what was going on, though, because as soon as they were out of sight of the guards by the doorway Chinook veered sharply left and huddled in the shadow of the Temple. Flash joined him when he beckoned him over with a wing.

"What's going on?" he asked, for some reason feeling the need to keep his voice low.

"We're going to see what's up," the wind dragon replied with a devious smirk. "We can see into the assembly hall from the windows on the roof, right?"

"Yeah, but anybody would be able to see us up there..."

He trailed off and his eyes widened in realization. Chinook's grin grew wider.

"Shouldn't be a problem for the one and only light dragon in the realms, should it?" he said, nudging Flash with a folded wing.

Flash hesitated, conflicted about spying on Spyro like that when he had made it quite clear that they should just leave the matter alone. However, despite the memory of the purple dragon's stern expression and the feeling of intimidation that came with it, his curiosity and suspicion quickly overrode his doubts.

"Okay, but the guards out front will still be able to hear us flying up to the roof," Flash pointed out skeptically. "How do you plan to get up there without them noticing?"

A smug look came over the grey dragon's features.

"No problem at all. I can cancel out the sound our wings make."

Flash looked at him in surprise. "You can?"

Chinook nodded firmly. "Absolutely. The Guardians just started teaching me about it in our Combat classes as the next advanced use of my element. You know what causes sound, Flash?"

"Vibrations," Flash answered.

"Exactly. Vibrations in the air. So if I were to, say, maintain a barrier of perfectly still air all around us as we were flying..."

Flash's eyes widened in realization again. "No vibrations..."

"And no sound," Chinook finished proudly. "You cloak us from the eyes, I cloak us from the ears. No one will ever know we were even up there."

Flash hesitated for only a moment longer, grappling with his last remaining reservations about what they were about to do, but after that a look of resolution crossed his features and he gave his friend a quick nod.

"Alright, let's do it."

Chinook returned the nod, then both of them closed their eyes and focussed. Flash's task took only a split-second to complete, having practiced this technique multiple times in their training—by now he could conceal two separate groups of up to three dragons each simultaneously no matter how they moved, although his focus wasn't developed yet to the point that he could fight while doing so. Hiding just himself and one other from sight was virtually nothing to him now as a result.

Chinook clearly had much more difficulty performing his half of their concealment, which was unsurprising since he was still just learning about this application of wind. Eventually, though, the world around them went absolutely dead silent all at once, the stillness so complete and total that Flash could hear his own heart beating, and his and Chinook's breathing seemed to almost echo. Chinook opened his eyes and beamed proudly, looking around to see the still-active world all around them, but being unable to hear any of it—and by extension, the rest of the world being unable to hear them in return.

"That's so weird," Flash muttered, gazing around with a stunned expression. He found it strangely disconcerting, being able to see the world but being suddenly deaf to it.

"I know," Chinook smirked. "But then so is being able to see each other and still knowing that no one else can. Now you know how the rest of us feel whenever you cloak us."

"Yeah, whatever," Flash said quickly. "Let's just get up there."

"Lead the way, buddy."

Flash nodded and jumped into the air, wincing as the sound of his wingbeats seemed deafening in the total silence around them, but when he glanced toward the front of the Temple he saw no guards coming to investigate the noise. Growing more confident, he angled his nose up and accelerated sharply toward the roof, Chinook following right off his wingtip. Within seconds they had touched down and crawled on their bellies up to one of the small windows that opened into the assembly hall below them. Inside they could see the guards, Spyro and Cynder, and the unknown ice dragon all sitting within the large open chamber, the guards forming a ring around the perimeter of the room, the two captains discussing something quietly to each other. Spyro and Cynder were motionless, watching the ice dragon with unwavering attention as if wary of him going on the attack at any moment. Said ice dragon simply sat motionlessly, waiting.

Soon enough the four Guardians entered through one of the chamber's open doorways, accompanied by General Mason. All of them bore tense expressions and all of them looked deeply worn out, as if they hadn't slept at all the previous night. This puzzled the white dragon, and he watched intently as the four large dragons sat down a short distance from Spyro, Cynder, and the ice dragon each, casting wary looks toward the latter before addressing the group, their voices unheard by the two spying dragons on the roof.

"They look like they had a rough night," Chinook commented.

"Yeah," Flash nodded. "Probably talking about whatever happened to Spyro and Cynder. What does that guy have to do with it though...?"

They fell silent as the conversation below them continued unheard for a short while, the Guardians exchanging words with Spyro, Cynder and the Guard leaders, glancing from time to time to the ice dragon waiting patiently on the side. Eventually all eyes turned toward the unknown dragon, and to the surprise of Flash and Chinook, his scales began shimmering strangely.

Flash's jaw nearly smacked against the stone of the roof and his entire being seemed to go numb at what happened next. Without any warning the scales of the ice dragon—who clearly wasn't actually an ice dragon—began to change. Their colour gradually shifted from a frosty blue to deep violet, bronze markings fading into view and scars appearing all across the dragon's body, leaving a figure sitting before them that Flash had never expected to see again in his life. All at once the reason his eyes had seemed so familiar clicked, but Flash was too stunned to feel anything other than cold numbness.

"No way..." Chinook breathed in disbelief beside him, his eyes so wide they looked like they were going to pop out of his skull. "He...He can't really be...Purple?" His stupefied gaze turned toward Flash. "Does that mean that that's...?"

The light dragon nodded, a dark growl escaping his jaws and his face twisting into a snarl of cold hatred, his claws tightening against the roof.

"Nexus..."

* * *

**Looks like someone's been busted. :-O How is Flash going to react to this, I wonder?  
**

**Hope you liked it, and I would love to hear our opinions as always. Thanks to all you readers and reviewers, and I'll see you in the next chapter. :)**

**Until next time...  
**


	14. Chapter 14: Unfavourable Terms

**It's another chapter, everybody. :) Ain't no virus that's going to stop me from writing. It may have taken some time, but it's here, and hopefully it's good. So, time to see what's going on with Spyro and Nexus I think.**

**Read and enjoy. :D**

* * *

_Chapter 14: Unfavorable Terms_

The sensation that Nexus was feeling in that moment was a difficult one to describe. As he sat there motionlessly, surrounded by dragons that had been his enemies not long before and that viewed him as such still, his instincts were absolutely screaming at him and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral in the face of the storm raging in his mind.

_What are you _doing_!?_

_You're way too vulnerable! Move, now!_

_They have every angle against you like this! The right side is weakest. Hit them there before they decide to rush you!_

_You don't have an exit like this. Spyro and Cynder are between you and the main doorway, and the Guardians have the other blocked. A portal is your only way out, and you can only use that when they aren't pressuring you. You have to open up another play while you have time._

_You're kidding yourself thinking that they're going to trust you. There's no benefit to leaving yourself vulnerable like this. Just make a break for it and stop deluding yourself!_

_You should make a pre-emptive strike to throw them off balance. Use Dragon Time and hit Cynder while she can't protect herself. Spyro will rush to her aid, and everyone else will be too surprised to do anything before you escape. Now, while they aren't expecting it!_

Despite everything his mind was telling him, though, he forced himself to do nothing. He knew full well that he was treading the proverbial razor's edge now. If he gave these dragons any indication of hostile intent they would do everything they could to put him down, and even if he did escape that would leave him with Ragnor to deal with alone. Though he hated it, his life was in the paws of the four dragon leaders and his brother. There was no turning back now.

This fact didn't put a stop on his souring demeanour, however, and as the crushing silence in the chamber drew on seemingly without end Nexus finally couldn't take it any longer.

"Is this normal for you guys?" he scowled. "Just sit around staring while time wastes away? Because if so, we're all done for."

"You would be wise to hold your tongue until we address you," Cyril shot back in a scathing tone. "For someone claiming to be in need of our help to survive, you are not making much headway in getting on our good graces."

"Then let's stop sitting around here and hear what your decision is. Are you going to let me help you or not?"

"If only there were a simple answer to that question," Terrador sighed heavily, clearly striving to keep his countenance even and calm despite the tension that Nexus could easily read in his body. "We have spent the entire night debating the matter heatedly, lining up all of the crimes that you are guilty of and countering them with the potential benefits of accepting your assistance, only to have those rebutted by yet more atrocities that you have committed. You certainly succeeded in making an agreement a struggle to come to."

"I'd take that as a compliment if that's what I had been going for, but in this case I would really rather get to a speedy resolution here."

"Indeed," Cyril sneered. "Which is why, against much of our better judgement, we have elected to offer a conditional exchange of sorts. We will not agree yet to offer you any form of amnesty or full asylum within the city yet, but if you can show us that you do indeed have information of benefit for us then we will not sentence you to the swift execution that you so deserve."

Nexus's gaze hardened slightly, but he kept his bearing steady. "And if you do like what I have to offer? What happens?"

"If the information you provide is deemed valuable and actionable for both us and our allies in the face of this described threat," Volteer replied at a dizzying clip, "then we will grant you, provisionally and of a probationary nature, temporary permission to take up refuge in our city with obvious restrictions and heavy supervision in place. That arrangement will remain open for so long as you do as you said and continue to offer both your knowledge and your various abilities in the struggle against Ragnor's forces of darkness."

Nexus considered this offer for a moment in silence, feeling almost grimly amused by how heavily weighted against him it was, but at the same time it was more than he had really been expecting. He glanced toward Spyro and Cynder briefly, seeing that the other purple dragon was watching him with a harsh gaze and Cynder looked disgusted that the Guardians had actually offered what they had, but not surprised. A short pause later Nexus gave a small nod of his head, looking thoughtful.

"These 'restrictions' that I would be under if I was allowed to stay here…" he said, facing the Guardians again. "Elaborate."

Instead of answering, the Guardians turned to face the stout mole general that stood a few paces from them. Mason took a step forward, his hand clenched over the pommel of his sword and a tight, hard look in his expression. When he spoke, however, it was with a distinctly military professionalism.

"Your movements within the city would be monitored constantly by a team of highly trained guards, selected from the most elite soldiers and officers to be found under Captains Raulk's and Boreas's commands. As well these movements would be restricted to a predetermined area within the core of the city, away from the most densely populated districts and out of as much of the public's eye as possible. You would be required to remain disguised at all times, and aside from this you would not be permitted to use any of your powers in any situation other than combat against Ragnor's forces. Any violation of these terms would be grounds for immediate response in the form of lethal force."

"No messing around about it, huh?" Nexus smirked. "I can respect that. And if I went along with your terms, what would happen once all of this was over—assuming we all lived that long?"

Sirius was the one to step forward this time. "If you stay true to your word, then depending on the extent of your help we would renegotiate at that point."

"A very diplomatic answer," Nexus grunted.

"It is the best that we can offer you at this point," Terrador said sternly. "Believe us when we say that even offering this much is stretching the limits of our tolerance, but if the threat standing before us is as grave as you imply then desperate times call for desperate measures." His gaze darkened considerably, his eyes turning cold and dangerous in only a second. "However, you would be wise to tread carefully, because if we receive even the slightest of indications that you are going to go back on your word we will do everything in our power to put you down without hesitation. You will not be able to catch us off guard this time."

Nexus held the powerful earth dragon's gaze for a few moments, his mind working intensely as he considered his position one final time. While the Guardian's threat didn't do much to faze him, it wasn't something that he was going to take lightly either. If the four Guardians, the city's guards and most importantly Spyro made a focused effort to kill him, he would be very hard pressed to stop them. Surprise wasn't on his side this time, and the dragons around him now knew full well what they were up against.

And it would only take one tiny slip for them to all come crashing down on him.

_Not an ideal situation_, he thought grimly. _But there isn't much else I can do. Ignitus, I hope you knew what you were doing_.

"I guess I'd better start proving myself then," he told them.

For a second there were looks of veiled surprise on many of the faces in the room, as if they hadn't been expecting him to cooperate this readily. He paid this no mind, however, deciding to get right to business. The less wasted time, the better.

"So, what do you want to know first?"

"The most pressing threat," Terrador answered him plainly, "whatever you deem that to be. You are the one claiming to have the knowledge we need, so you will have to enlighten us in this regard."

"Yes sir," Nexus replied with only a hint of sarcasm. He paused thoughtfully for a second before rising promptly to his paws. "It'll be easier to show you. You have a training room in this Temple, if I remember right?"

"The training room?" Volteer repeated with a puzzled expression. "That seems an unintuitive, unusual and unexpected locale for a briefing of this sort."

"Yeah, well, that's where we're going anyway."

"Oh really?" Cynder challenged acidly. "And why should we agree to take you there? I say it's too dangerous. How do we know that you won't make a training dummy of a golem or something worse?"

"That would be counterproductive," Nexus replied in a flat tone that only seemed to anger Cynder further. He smirked inwardly at how easy she was to rile up, but this was no time for games and so he went no further.

"She raises a valid point," the pale grey Guard captain, Boreas, spoke up. "While any training dummies he conjures would be unable to leave the chamber, anyone in the room with him will be in danger of attack."

"I give my word that I have no underhanded motives here," Nexus sighed, already growing tired of the endless suspicion. "For whatever little that's worth. I just think you'll get more out of what I have to say if you can actually see what it is we're up against."

A heavy silence descended over the chamber, the four Guardians exchanging wary, uncomfortable looks. It was several moments before anyone spoke, and in this pause it seemed as if no one was able to come up with a solution. Finally Terrador turned his gaze toward Spyro, who looked up to meet his mentor's eyes.

"Young dragon?"

Nexus's brow raised a touch, intrigued that the decision was being put to his brother. Spyro's expression curled into a frown, his gaze falling to the floor briefly before it settled upon Nexus. Neither purple dragon moved, the entire chamber still as everyone awaited the hero's decision. Finally, Spyro gave a nearly unnoticeable nod of his head.

"Let's go."

The Guardians exchanged conflicted looks, but soon enough their expressions were replaced with ones of resignation and surrender. They turned to face Nexus and Cyril made a beckoning motion with his wing.

"If we must, we will take you. This way, but you had best watch your step from here on out."

_Interesting_, Nexus thought to himself. _They're hinged on Spyro's judgement. I really do need to be careful; if he starts having doubts they're all going to turn on me in a heartbeat._

"It will be difficult to move through the corridors with this many guards," Raulk pointed out, catching the Guardians' attention.

"He is right," Mason agreed, scratching at his chin thoughtfully. "Captains, select your most able-bodied dragons from among those here. No more than four should suffice. Any more an we will have no maneuvering room whatsoever in those halls."

"Yes sir," the two dragon captains answered sharply, making their choices without delay. A moment later the four guards stood at attention by their superiors, Raulk's choices being almost as bulky and powerful as the captain that had selected them while Boreas's selections looked more suited for speed and agility—an interesting but effective mix if they knew how to work together.

The Guardians turned around to exit through the doorway behind them, and at the same time the six dragon guards and Mason moved into positions behind Nexus where they would be best able to react to any hostile moves. Spyro and Cynder also stood, ready to move into similarly defensive positions. Nexus simply stood calmly, forcing himself to remain completely relaxed, knowing a sudden movement could go badly for him.

This thought had hardly crossed his mind when his head snapped up abruptly, his gaze darting upwards and his body going rigid as defensive instinct took hold. His eyes scanned the upper walls and the ceiling intently, searching. He wasn't sure what exactly had caught his attention, but he almost could have sworn he had heard something like a talon scraping against stone from the direction of the open windows…

"Hey," a cold voice behind him said suddenly, disrupting his focus and causing him to look back into the glaring faces of Spyro and Cynder. The black dragoness jerked her head toward the door. "Get moving."

"Is something wrong?" Spyro asked with a touch of suspicion.

Nexus glanced toward the windows one final time before giving a low grunt and shaking his head.

"Nah, it's nothing," he told them, although inside he wasn't so sure. "Shall we?"

They gave no answer, and he didn't wait for one. Instead he padded off after the retreating forms of the Guardians, Spyro, Cynder and the guards following only a couple of paces behind him. The trip to the training room was an uneventful one after that, and soon enough the thirteen dragons and one mole were standing just inside the large chamber's main doorway.

"So, what are you showing us?" Spyro asked him, although by his expression Nexus figured he already had a good idea.

"The thing that will present the bulk of the danger we're going to be facing," Nexus answered, more for the benefit of the other dragons and mole in the chamber than his purple counterpart. "It's extremely unlikely that Ragnor is going to try confronting us again directly with another projection like in the Well of Souls, and so most of the fighting we're going to be doing is against the wraiths. That's what you all need to be ready to face."

"I have never heard of these 'wraith' creatures that you have been mentioning," Volteer commented. "I know for a fact that none of the known races of this world go by this title, so what are they?"

Nexus nodded his head toward the training ring in response, asking for permission to tap into the chamber's power, and after a brief hesitation Terrador gave a resigned nod. Concentrating briefly on the image in his mind, Nexus summoned three dummies. The centre of the chamber's floor came alive with curling bursts of smoke, and a second later the twisted, haunting forms of three wraiths stood like statues in the middle of the ring, staring with their gleaming white eyes at the group standing by the door. Everyone with the exception of Nexus stiffened, several of the guards and the Guardians giving shocked gasps. Spyro and Cynder, meanwhile, gazed out with wary, unnerved expressions at the monsters that had nearly overpowered them just the night before.

"What in the name of the Ancestors are those?" one of the guards muttered.

"Those," Nexus answered in a flat tone, "are wraiths. Creatures bonded with the shadow element. They're more like ghosts than anything."

"Spyro?" Cyril said, looking toward the young purple dragon. "Are these what attacked you?"

Spyro nodded mutely, his gaze never straying from the wraith dummies that still hadn't so much as twitched since being summoned.

"They don't look like much," another of the guards commented with a frown, squinting out at the wraiths. "They're even smaller than apes. Sure they look scary, but what's so threatening?"

Nexus shot the guard a derisive glance before stepping forward into the ring, squaring himself to the wraiths. Dropping into a low stance, he inhaled deeply and began charging an earth missile between his jaws. He was aware of the guards dropping into fighting stances behind him, but they didn't move to stop him and a second later his attack reached full strength. With a sharp snarl he let the earthy projectile fly. It struck the ground directly in front of the wraiths, exploding with a thunderous crash and sending up a deadly hail of stone shrapnel. The jagged shards of rock tore through the wraiths with gruesome effectiveness, ripping deep gashes into their hides and shearing off limbs. The wraiths tumbled to the ground without so much as a cry, the various severed limbs disappearing in puffs of black smoke when they hit the ground. For a moment they lay there motionlessly, an eerie silence falling over the room as the dust settled.

It was then that the dummies displayed the first signs of life since materializing. With a haunting air about their movements, they began pushing their broken bodies up from the ground. Curls of shadow seeped from their wounds as they rose, their black, hardened flesh knitting itself back together before the dragons' eyes, their limbs reforming from nothing. Only a moment later the three dummies were again standing together in the centre of the chamber, staring unblinkingly at the dragons and mole general and once again going still.

"What devilry is this?" Cyril murmured, his eyes wide.

"Ragnor's," Nexus answered grimly. "Spyro was right when he told you that these wraiths are unlike anything any of you have fought before. They're cold, without fear, without empathy and without any regard for their own lives, if they can even be called that. They're barely anything more than cursed spirits, bound by Ragnor's power to remain in this world and given form by his shadow element. Their only purpose is to enforce his will, and they'll obey him without question."

"Spirits, you say?" Volteer asked. "What were they before?"

"I don't know," Nexus answered truthfully. "I don't know many of the details on their history. All I know is what Ragnor told me; that they're the souls of some ancient, long-extinct race that he enslaved with his power to serve as his army after the Great Cleansing was complete and he had broken free from the Dark Realms. They've been sealed away in readiness since before he was imprisoned, waiting for him to awaken them."

"How long ago was that?" Sirius questioned.

Nexus turned a pointed stare toward the young Fire Guardian and answered, "A _long_ time."

There was an uncomfortable silence that hung in the air for several seconds after that, everyone in the room casting uneasy and suspicious looks toward the purple turncoat in their midst. Eventually, though, Mason cleared his throat.

"This history on these monstrosities is most intriguing," the mole said slowly, "albeit in a morbid way. However, there is a more pressing concern that I am more interested in hearing about: How do we fight them?"

Nexus's features hardened, a bearing of grim tension settling over him that caused the others to exchange more uneasy looks. He turned back toward the wraiths, as if studying them.

"You fight them by throwing everything you have at them," he growled. "These aren't like any other enemy that you can wear down with patience and tactics if you find yourself outmatched in strength. A lengthy battle will _always_ go badly for you. As you already saw, the fact that they have no true physical bodies and instead just have forms manifested out of their shadow power means that any wound you inflict on them will just regenerate if you give them any time to do it. Attacks that would normally cripple an opponent will only stun them for a moment." He glanced toward Cynder. "I'm sure you can vouch for that."

"What does that mean?" Terrador asked bemusedly, turning his gaze toward the black dragoness as well.

"When Spyro and I were fighting them I hit a few with my poison," she answered immediately, her anger toward Nexus apparently pushed aside for the time being. "I expected it to incapacitate them, but it barely slowed them down for a few seconds before they just shrugged it off and jumped right back onto the attack even though it should have taken them out of the fight permanently."

"That's one of the things they'll use the most to their advantage," Nexus nodded. "Striking down enemies that let down their guard because they thought that the wraith they just 'killed' won't be a threat anymore."

He noticed Spyro glance down at the wound on his chest at that, but he paid it no mind before continuing.

"As far as I can tell the only way to truly kill them is to completely obliterate them so that there's nothing they can regenerate from, or decapitating them also seems to work. I guess they need more than just their heads left to regenerate. I'm not really sure. Any less than that, though, and they'll be back in the fight within moments."

"So that's why you were so tired after fighting them off," Cynder said tonelessly.

Nexus nodded. "I couldn't pace myself like I normally would. I had to go all out to kill them before they could regenerate on me."

"And what about how _they_ fight?" Raulk stepped in. "What sorts of weapons will they bring into the fight?"

"None," Nexus replied, earning several confused looks before he continued, "They _are_ their weapons. Look."

He focused on the dummies again, and in eerie unison they held out their right arms, clouds of shadow forming around them. Each wraith morphed its appendage into a different form of armament, the one in front making one of the spiked clubs that most of the wraiths had been using the night before, one transforming its limb into a long, curved and deadly sharp blade, and the last one turning its arm into a sort of spiked war hammer. They then repeated the process with their left arms, forming a battle-axe, a mace and a crossbow respectively. The observers were stunned.

"Is there any limit to what they can and can't form?" one of the guards asked nervously.

"That's something I don't know," Nexus said with a shrug. "This is all based on what I've been told and what I saw last night. I doubt any of us will ever know for sure what the full extent of their capabilities are."

"And I thought that it was because you had all the answers that we were letting you live," Boreas growled darkly.

"To be fair," Terrador grunted in a reluctant sort of tone, "this is far more than we would have been able to learn without losing many lives in the process otherwise. Assuming, of course, that you're telling us the truth."

Nexus held his gaze unflinchingly, and when the Guardians turned to Spyro and Cynder for confirmation a moment later the other purple dragon sighed and gave a small nod of his head.

"Everything he's said so far seems consistent with what we saw."

"Surprisingly enough," Cynder added under her breath.

"I believe we should see these creatures in action," Raulk suggested after another short pause, "so that we can get a better idea of what we might expect if and when we have to face them."

Mason gave him a stern look. "That's a hazardous proposition, Captain, given who is in control of those dummies."

"Regardless, I believe it would benefit us to see what they can do with our own eyes. Otherwise, even with what we have been told about them surprise will still be against us once a battle begins."

"I won't argue against that, but I do also agree with the General," Boreas grunted, glaring at Nexus. "We have no guarantee that this one won't spur the dummies into delivering a fatal blow."

"Then I'll fight them."

Everyone in the room faltered, turning surprised stares toward Nexus. The purple dragon didn't flinch, gazing steadily around at the many sets of eyes peering quizzically at him.

"You?" Sirius repeated. "That still seems risky to me."

Nexus couldn't keep the smirk from rising to his muzzle. "Concerned? I'm touched."

Sirius's gaze hardened, but he kept his composure. After a brief silence Terrador gave a quiet sigh.

"I admit to also being curious, despite any misgivings. So long as we maintain vigilance, I say we allow it. Thoughts?"

He glanced amongst his colleagues, and the other three Guardians met his gaze with hesitant ones of their own. Eventually, though, they agreed.

"Very well," Cyril huffed. He turned his frosty glare toward Nexus. "You get one chance. For your sake, don't make us regret it."

"Warning duly noted," Nexus said with a nod.

"It may be prudent and wise to disperse and create some more defensive spacing between us so that in the event of treachery we will be at our most prepared to counter any threat that this young dragon may present," Volteer suggested.

"Good idea, Volteer," Terrador nodded. "Guards, take up positions around the chamber. Spyro, Cynder, you as well. You will be the best equipped to subdue him if it comes to that, so you should be prepared."

Neither of the young dragons said a word in response. Instead they exchanged a silent look before rising to their paws and heading to opposite sides of the chamber, their vigilant gazes locked on Nexus and the wraiths the whole time. The guards likewise spread out, forming a ring around the chamber. Once they were all in position, Terrador nodded toward Nexus.

The purple dragon made no reply. Wordlessly, with an air of cold focus entering his bearing, he padded out toward the centre of the training ring. The three wraith dummies backed away simultaneously, forming a smaller ring between him and the circle of watching dragons. When he reached the middle of the chamber Nexus became still, his breathing slowing to a measured, steady beat, his mind clearing by instinct of all distracting thoughts. He tuned out the guards that watched his every move despite the threat they posed. Likewise, he focused out Cynder and the Guardians, not caring what they thought or felt in that moment. For a moment after that his eyes locked on to those of Spyro, and when they did the other purple dragon seemed to falter somewhat, as though puzzled by the utter calm that his counterpart's red-tinged eyes revealed. Then Nexus blocked him out as well, leaving only the wraiths in his world. He crouched low to the ground, readying himself.

All at once a fleeting sense of irony passed through Nexus's mind, and a half-smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth.

_Bet you never thought things would turn out like this, huh 'Master'?_ he thought. _That I would one day turn all of your training and lessons against you? Well, looks like today I finally start fighting for myself._

He sent a faint mental command to the training dummies and all at once they dropped into combat positions, their weaponized arms raised into striking poses. Nexus's resolve and focus doubled, discarding the fact that these were merely dummies from his conscious mind. To him, this was now real.

_Bring it_.

A flash of movement, and the wraiths were upon him. Even Nexus, who had been expecting the intensity of the first strike, was taken by surprise by how suddenly he found himself boxed in. Years of training smothered the instant of disorientation and shock beneath a layer of what could almost be called serenity, however, and before the first blows had even landed his breathing and heartbeat were settled into a deliberate rhythm.

_Cold and focused…_

One of the wraiths swung the long blade of its right arm at Nexus's flank, and at the same time a second bore down on him with its pointed hammer driving down to flatten his skull beneath it. Nexus reacted without thinking, coating the leading edge of his left wing in stone and catching the shadow blade upon it while simultaneously twisting out of the way of the hammer blow. He had no breathing space though because the first wraith was already swinging at him with its mace arm, and while he couldn't see it Nexus knew that the third would be closing in behind him. He had to get out of the middle of these wraiths, and he had to do it now.

The coating of stone on his leading wing finger exploded outward, peppering the wraith on that side with razor-sharp debris and forcing it back a step, its mace blow averted. Immediately Nexus spun sharply to that side, sweeping his tail out to force the wraiths back further. It worked, granting him a few precious paces of distance between him and his foes.

It didn't last. A whoosh of air alerted Nexus to imminent peril and out of instinct he flattened himself to the ground, a pulse of his Dragon Time power allowing him to narrowly avoid the shadowy bolt that would have buried itself in his thigh otherwise. He had barely blinked before a second wraith ducked into the shadows and re-emerged on the other side of him, lunging with axe and club raised to kill. At the same moment he heard the scrape of a hard, clawed foot to his right alerted him to the advance of the sword-armed wraith, aiming to lay open his side with its blade.

_Not good_, Nexus thought inwardly, but then immediately saw an opportunity. _Or is it?_

His Dragon Time power pulsed again, slowing the world briefly and allowing him to judge the speed of the wraith's approach. Then, in a single movement that was almost too fast to follow due to still being under Dragon Time's effect, he twisted, caught the shaft of the axe in the bend of his wing and pulled, spinning out of the way. When he relinquished his hold on time, instead of the one wraith's sword cutting through purple scales it instead sliced clean through the shadowy arm of the wraith that had taken Nexus's place. The wounded wraith uttered a piercing shriek of pain and rage. A blow from Nexus's tail knocked it to the ground a few metres away, but he stopped himself from finishing it off while it was down. A small part at the back of his mind reminded him that the guards needed to see how the wraiths might fight, and eliminating them too quickly wouldn't advance that goal.

_Putting my neck on the line for others again, it seems,_ he thought ruefully. _Nexus, what's wrong with you?_

A point-blank shot from the crossbow wraith nearly found its mark in his neck, and Nexus stifled a hiss of pain as he deflected it with the toughened membrane of his wing into the shoulder of his second assailant. The wound didn't slow it down in the slightest as it lashed out with its mace, following up with its sword arm afterward. Nexus narrowly sidestepped both strikes, jumping over a swing of the other wraith's hammer and backing away a few paces, waiting for the next attack. The third wraith had risen by this point, its arm re-formed.

For several minutes Nexus kept up the not-so-mock battle, matching the wraiths blow for failed blow, crippling them repeatedly but never finishing them off completely so that the watching guards could get a full impression of the monstrosities' relentlessness. They were tireless, but as much as Nexus tried to make it seem so he wasn't and as the battle wore on it began to drag him down. Eventually, as the many near misses began coming closer and closer to hitting their marks, Nexus decided that it was time to put this demonstration to an end.

A shockwave of electricity staggered the three wraiths without warning, and while they were quick to recover they weren't quick enough. Nexus lashed out with his right wing, forming a blade of ice along the leading finger that sliced through the neck of the crossbow-armed dummy. With an ear-grating shriek its body dissolved, vanishing in a cloud of black smoke. Without delay he rounded on the next wraith—

—Only to yelp and rear up as he found it making a low swing at his chest with its axe. The swing missed, but the follow up swing with the club caught the ankle of his left rear paw. With a surprised grunt Nexus stumbled and fell over onto his back, the wind rushing out of his lungs.

"_Never lose track of your enemies!"_ Ragnor's soul-rattling voice snarled in his mind, an echo from a long ago training session.

_Yeah, yeah, shut up_.

His eyes widened when he saw the spiked hammer rushing down toward him, and Nexus caught it with his forepaws without an instant to spare. His teeth became gritted in a snarl as he fought to hold the hammer back from his skull, the wraith displaying a startling amount of strength as it bore down on its pinned opponent with one arm. Nexus snarled in frustration as he found himself unable to force the hammer back, leaving him far too vulnerable.

What happened next occurred so quickly that everyone watching the struggle was left utterly bewildered for several moments as they tried to piece it together. Nexus was just beginning to push the hammer back away from his snout, but at the same time he spotted movement out of the corners of his eyes. He registered two threats simultaneously: The other remaining wraith was stalking forward, ready to finish the trapped purple dragon, and at the same time he saw the wraith standing over him moving its crossbow arm to shoot him in his flank while he couldn't defend himself, all but spelling his end.

He reacted in a flash. A surge of electricity shot through his paws into the wraith's arm, temporarily paralyzing the limb, and in this crucial second of opening he shot his right forepaw out and shoved the crossbow up and away from his side at the exact moment that the bolt was released. The bolt, trailing shadow behind it, shot through the air and embedded itself deep in the centre of the second wraith's forehead. The wraith uttered a weak, warbling cry before its body dissolved into shadowy mist, defeated. That left only the wraith standing above Nexus left to finish.

Surprised by the unexpected death of its comrade, the wraith had no chance to defend itself before Nexus kicked himself around in a sharp circle, sweeping the wraith's feet out from under it with his tail. In the blink of an eye their positions had been reversed, the wraith flat on its back and Nexus looming over it. A dry crunch sounded throughout the chamber, Nexus's talons on his right forepaw piercing through the centre of its chest and driving into the stone floor beneath it. Before it could escape his paw crackled with the deadly power of convexity, and everyone could only watch in surprise and fear as the wraith's body began to split apart, violet light spilling out through the spider-webbing cracks as the wraith shrieked in pain. Then, with a final pulse of power, the built-up convexity exploded outward and erased the wraith dummy from existence in an instant. For what felt like ages after that no one moved or spoke, the only sound to be heard in the deathly still chamber being the faint panting coming from Nexus.

Finally, a cleared throat from Terrador broke the heavy silence. Nexus turned his gaze up toward the Guardians to see them all staring at him with deeply wary expressions, looking unnerved by the fierce efficiency with which he had dispatched his foes in the end. Terrador at least appeared to be trying to maintain a professional demeanour, though. The others were simply gaping at him, wings and tails twitching nervously.

"It seems you and Spyro weren't exaggerating about the threat these wraiths present," the great earth dragon rumbled slowly.

"It's very concerning indeed to see what they're capable of," Mason agreed, nodding. "We will have to train the Guard intensely against these new dummies."

"We'll organize a training rotation immediately," Raulk said as he and Boreas padded over toward the furry general. "Do you want us to make use of the Tournament Dome arena as well to train more guards at once?"

"The arena is open to the public," Cyril reminded them. "Do we want the general populace seeing these creatures just yet?"

"It may not be the most appropriate or conducive message to relay during a time that is supposed to be one of celebration and jubilation," Volteer nodded. "Especially with so many guests present. We should not worry them unnecessarily."

"If they're a threat, though, should we really keep it a secret?" Sirius pointed out. "Or should we allow them the chance to prepare for the danger?"

"That's risky," Cynder said grimly, she and Spyro joining the group from the sides of the arena, shooting Nexus quick glances as they passed. "Huge crowds like this don't take danger very well in my experience."

"She's right," Boreas nodded. "Things could escalate too quickly if we don't handle things delicately."

"This is a decision that will require more careful consideration, I think," Terrador sighed. "In the meantime we should certainly take all strides to prepare our guards as much as possible."

"Perhaps we might also consider alerting the leadership of our allies to the danger," Volteer proposed. "I'm certain we can trust them to handle the situation with tact and due consideration, but they should be warned."

The other Guardians nodded thoughtfully.

"It is certainly something to consider," Cyril agreed. "For now, though, we still have matters a bit closer to home to deal with."

He cast a pointed look at Nexus at this, but Nexus merely shot him a narrow smirk in return.

"Indeed," Terrador rumbled tensely, also turning his gaze down toward the purple dragon. "Nexus, we must thank you for showing us this."

Nexus inclined his head slightly, his expression stoic.

"Just honouring my part of the deal. Hopefully you'll do the same now."

The other dragons' expressions tensed slightly, but they retained their composure.

"Keep telling us what you know and you will not need to worry," Terrador grunted. "Now, is there anything else we need to know about these wraiths before we leave here?"

"Not much that I can think up right now," Nexus shrugged. "I only have what I've heard and that one fight to go on after all, but I'll keep thinking on it and get back to you quickly. For now, just take cues from the better shadow users out there for what to look out for; stealth, ease of maneuvering, ambush tactics, hit and run, the likes. Just remember, like in the ring just now, the longer you let the fight drag on for the more it works to their advantage, so finish them off fast."

"Shouldn't we pace ourselves, though?" Boreas said skeptically. "In a prolonged battle if we are expending all of our energy just to finish each engagement as quickly as possible we're leaving ourselves vulnerable down the line."

"That's the risk you'll have to take," Nexus replied darkly. "This won't be like any other war you've fought before, where tactics and wearing the enemy down are the keys to winning. Every single second out there will be a struggle to survive. That's it. For now, that's the only way we can fight until we find some kind of weakness to exploit."

The other dragons and Mason became grim, but no one made any further arguments. Finally, Volteer broke the silence.

"Well, you have certainly given us a great deal to think on and consider. We will have to make haste in deploying the appropriate defensive measures now that we have this insight into what we expect to face."

"Assuming we haven't been mislead," Sirius murmured, but the comment didn't seem so much an accusation as simply a general afterthought. Again the Guardians' eyes turned toward Spyro, but their gazes weren't questioning ones.

"I suppose this means we can bring this matter to a close for the time being," Terrador declared. "Nexus, again, we are obliged to thank you for your cooperation. If there is nothing else that you need to say here then you will be escorted back to your cell for now. Arrangements are being made to make it a bit more comfor—"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up," Nexus cut in abruptly. "If you think I'm going back to that dungeon you're dreaming pal. I stayed in there overnight because I didn't want to cause too many headaches right off the get go, but I'm not going to just let you lock me away down there forever while you use my knowledge at your convenience."

"And where else do you suggest we place you?" Volteer inquired skeptically. "To speak bluntly, the dungeon is the only place in the city remotely secure and private enough for you to be held. Allowing you to remain anywhere else would be egregiously irresponsible on our part in regards to our duty to protect the city's populace."

"You may have held up to your end of the deal so far," Cyril said, "but you are a _long_ way from earning our trust enough to warrant such an allowance."

Nexus scowled, but inside he wasn't really surprised at their response. Still, staying cooped up in that dank, claustrophobic cell wasn't something that he was prepared to do while he could still help it. He met the gazes of each of the Guardians and Spyro in turn, then gave a small shrug and a sigh.

"Fine. Then I'm gone."

Looks of surprise flashed across the faces of the other dragons, but no one was able to reply before he was on his way toward the chamber's exit.

"Good luck," he said simply as he crossed the threshold, not looking back.

He expected them to make some kind of move to restrain him, to try and subdue him by force now that he had reneged on his part of the bargain and therefore gave them no reason not to persecute him for the crimes he had committed against them. No one moved, however, everyone seeming too caught off guard by how suddenly he had decided to simply abandon them all—and himself as well—to the grim fates that he had described. It was only once he had nearly disappeared around the corner of the doorway that the silence was interrupted.

"He can stay with me."

Nexus faltered. Slowly he turned until he was facing Spyro, and he noticed that everyone else in the room was also staring at the purple hero in absolute shock. Spyro, meanwhile, had an expression that Nexus had never seen on him before: a strange mix of disgust and harsh, bitter resignation.

"_What?!_" Cynder exclaimed several seconds later. The look on her face was one that could almost be called horror. "Spyro, you can't be _serious_! Do you even hear yourself?"

"Young dragon, that is a most unwise suggestion," Terrador said sternly. "Even under the best of circumstances it would be an invitation to disaster to do such a thing, but now with the threat of an attack looming we must—"

"I know the risk," Spyro cut in, his eyes sharp despite the clear conflict within him that was betrayed by his rigid posture. "And I know that it's unorthodox. But if it's a choice between that or losing his help, then I say there's no choice."

"Spyro, it's too dangerous," Sirius protested. "You remember what happened the last time he got you alone."

Spyro winced almost unnoticeably, though Nexus caught it easily, and his left wing tightened against his flank, but surprisingly his resolve appeared unmoved. He gazed around at the Guardians and most of all Cynder, taking in the pleading look they were all giving him to reconsider At length he sighed.

"I know that he's too strong for me to fight alone," he said quietly, "but like I said last night, we need his help. If this is the only way to make him stay then so be it. I'll be able to keep watch on him at all times this way, and if he attacks then while I likely won't be able to beat him I'll at least be able to hold out long enough for help to get there."

"Spyro, please," Cynder hissed insistently. "This is going way too far. It's not worth the risk. If you won't consider your own safety then at least think about our friends."

This caused Spyro to hesitate. His eyes turned toward Nexus quickly but Nexus remained silent and motionless, waiting. He knew that promising that he had no hostile motives would do nothing to persuade anyone anyway. It was all on Spyro now.

At length, the young purple dragon heaved another long, defeated sigh.

"Do we have any other choice?" he asked his black-scaled companion.

The question wasn't meant rhetorically, but it seemed like no one had an alternative to propose. An oppressive silence hung in the chamber for several moments, but eventually it was broken by a gruff sigh from Terrador.

"So be it," he muttered. "Mason, organize a security detail. That building will need to be under constant watch from this point onward. The guards will need to go unarmoured, however. We don't want to arouse suspicion by letting the public see a heavy guard presence in the core of the city suddenly. Have a mole check in with Spyro regularly as well. They can pose as an attendant or something similar to avoid scrutiny as much as possible, but we need to make certain that our young friend isn't under duress within his own chambers without our knowing. Spyro, will you want guards stationed within your chambers as well?"

All eyes turned toward Spyro expectantly, but after only a moment he shook his head once.

"Very well," Terrador grunted. "We will have to agree upon some sort of signal between you and the guards to indicate that you are in danger should the event arise, then. For now, though, that appears to be all we can do."

"I will organize the protective detail at once," Mason declared with a sharp salute to the Guardians. Beckoning to Raulk and Boreas, he turned and marched out of the chamber with the two dragon captains following him. Once they had gone the remaining dragons all turned hard glares toward Nexus.

"Do not make us regret granting you this leniency," Cyril growled darkly. "You have done nothing to deserve it, and if Spyro comes to harm because of this we will not rest until we have your head. Understood?"

"Yeah, got it," Nexus answered in a bored tone. He turned to Spyro. "Shall we?"

"Fine," Spyro grumbled. "Let's go." He motioned with a wing for Nexus to take the lead. "You remember the way, I guess?"

Nexus merely nodded and began walking, ignoring the bitter edge that had crept into Spyro's tone at those last words as the other purple dragon fell into step behind him. Some of the other observers appeared surprised by this action, but Nexus wasn't—in this position Spyro was able to watch Nexus's every move, and Nexus would have to turn around to be able to attack him. He smirked at the corner of his mouth.

_He's gotten more calculating. This might be more interesting than I thought._

As they approached the main exit of the Temple Nexus transformed himself into his ice dragon disguise once more, his scales only barely settling into their new colour before he emerged in the daylight. The two guards posted at the entranceway turned questioning looks toward him and Spyro as they emerged onto the steps but made no motion to stop them when they met Spyro's hard gaze. Without pause they descended into the courtyard and made their way toward the residence that would become Nexus's temporary home for the second time. They earned a couple of puzzled glances from passers by as they walked, but beyond that no one was any the wiser to the fugitive in their midst. Only minutes later the two purple dragons, both disguised and not, had entered Spyro's chambers and shut the door firmly behind them.

"Well brother, you have my thanks," Nexus said as he allowed his disguise to fade, smirking. He gave an exaggerated stretch, his back popping. "That cell was getting way too cramped for my liking."

Spyro scowled as he padded over to the balcony entrance and dragged the thick canvas cover over it, blocking the interior of his chambers from any prying eyes. A heavy gloom settled over the room as the sunlight was cut off, but Nexus promptly dispelled it with a flick of his paw, flames sparking to life inside the lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The display of control over his power earned a sidelong glance from Spyro as he passed again, but his expression remained guarded and blank. He paced over to the stack of cushions beside his shelf and tossed one in Nexus's general direction.

"Here," he grunted. "You can sleep down here tonight I guess."

Nexus gave a snort at the other dragon's coarse tone. "Oh yeah, I can tell this is going to be a _blast_. Family bonding, huh Spyro?"

Spyro shot him a flat glare before groaning and rolling his eyes. Nexus's smirk grew wider and he made a show of sinking down onto the cushion Spyro had given him. He didn't even truly know why he was grating on the nerves of the dragon who had gotten him out of that dungeon. This situation was so foreign to him, being in close contact with the brother that he had only ever encountered in combat before that point, and playing with his nerves was proving to be the most entertainment he'd ever had. He simply couldn't help it. Spyro clearly wasn't impressed.

"I'm probably wasting my time, but can I ask that we try to make this as minimally painful as possible?" he said, exasperation in his tone. "I'd like nothing more than to throw your tail out of this city in a heartbeat, but like you said, we need each other right now so I'm willing to try and make things work if you are."

Nexus grinned again and opened his mouth to answer, but at that exact moment he heard the creak of the door being pushed open. He reacted instantly, leaping up to his feet, freezing the world around him with his Dragon Time and transforming into his ice dragon disguise all at once. While under the cover of his time power he dashed farther into the room, not bothering to look back and try to see who was entering before he ducked behind the slight bend in the wall between the common room and the sitting area before the balcony. Only then did he release his power, turning back and padding leisurely toward the common area as though he had just been touring the purple hero's chambers.

"Cynder?" Spyro's very surprised voice said just before the doorway came back into Nexus's sight. "What are you doing in here?"

Nexus emerged into the common area just at that moment, and immediately the black dragoness's piercing gaze locked onto him. Nexus relaxed a touch when he realized that he wasn't at risk of being discovered like he had feared, and as Cynder shut the door behind her with her tail he let his disguise fade. Her eyes narrowed.

"You think I'm going to leave you in here with him alone?" she said finally, turning back toward Spyro. "Not a chance."

Spyro blinked. "You sure you're okay with—"

"Spyro, I've always got your back in this no matter what. Nothing can make me change my mind." She turned her dangerous gaze briefly to Nexus. "If he tries anything, I'm not going to let you face it alone."

Spyro paused uncertainly for a moment, but then a small smile touched his features and his eyes softened as she held his gaze unwaveringly. Nexus watched the pair for a second before rolling his eyes and stepping over to his cushion on the floor, dropping down heavily on top of it. The action caught the attention of the other two dragons, and quickly their expressions hardened once again. Cynder began circling around to Nexus's right to take up a more defensive position.

"It's a good thing Sparx isn't here or he'd have a fit from all this," Spyro muttered, sitting down with a sigh. "Alright, what's our plan from here? Because I feel like we have a long day ahead of us."

"Just one?" Cynder added under her breath.

"Well, if I can make a suggestion," Nexus spoke up, unaffected by the dragoness's tone, "I think it's best if we get a story nailed down for when people ask why you have an ice dragon bunking in your room."

"Okay," Spyro said with a small nod. "So how _are_ we going to explain that?"

"One piece at a time," Nexus replied, at the same time shifting into his ice dragon form to get into character. "So, for starters, I need a name."

"What kind of name?" Cynder inquired.

"Lesson one of blending in," Nexus told her. "Keep things simple to be as forgettable as possible. So with that in mind, what's an unremarkable name for an ice dragon?"

The two other dragons fell silent in thought, Nexus watching them both expectantly. Eventually Spyro looked up.

"Frost," he said simply.

Nexus met his level gaze, and a smile slowly formed on his muzzle. He inclined his head improvingly.

"Frost."


End file.
